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REFERENCE
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The Complete Works op
COUNT TOLSTOY
Volume XII.
Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive
in 2007 with funding from
IVIicrosoft Corporation
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FABLES FOR CHILDREN
STORIES FOR CHILDREN
NATURAL SCIENCE STORIES
POPULAR EDUCATION
DECEMBRISTS
MORAL TALES
Count Lev N. } olstdy
Ttanslated from the Original Russian and edited by
Leo Wiener
Assistant Professor of Slavic Languages at
Harvard Uniuersity
Boston
Dana Estes & Company
Publishers
u
Copyright, 1904,
By Dana Estes & Company
Entered at Stationers' Hall, London
THE NEW YORK ;
PUBLIC LmRARY I
JH.DSX rOjn:Mii«a«j '
THE COLONIAL PRESS
C. H. SIMONDS CO., BOSTON, U. S. A.
CONTENTS
FABLES FOR CHILDEEN
^sop's Fables 3
-Adaptations and Imitations of Hindoo Fables . 19
STORIES FOR CHILDREN
"The Foundling
-'The Peasant and the Cucumbers
■'The Fire ....
*^The Old House
— How I Learnkd to Ride
«»-» The Willow .
-a/ Bulka ....
— BtJLKA AND THE WiLD BoAR
--^Pheasants
-—Milton and Bulka .
■•■^The Turtle
>*- Bulka and the Wolf
— What Happened to Bulka in PyatigOrgk
— 'Bulka's and Milton's End
"•TuK Gray Hare
«--(ioD Sees the Truth, but Does Not Tell
■^Hunting Worse than SlavS^v. ; '., • *
>«.A Prisoner of the Cauc^sids' . .
'=*ErmXk
Once
39
40
41
43
46
49
51
53
56
58
60
63
65
68
70
70
92
124
NATURAL SCIENCE STORIES
Stories from Physics :
*" The Magnet »
137
VI CONTENTS
PAGE
" Moisture 140
■^The Different Connection of Particles . . 142
- Crystals ...,.,... 143
~ Injurious Air 146
-How Balloons Are Made 150
^ Galvanism 152
—The Sun's Heat 156
Stories from Zoology :
— The Owl and the Hare ..... 159
•'How THE Wolves Teach Their Whelps . . 160
-Hares and Wolves 161
-The Scent 162
-Touch and Sight 164
'The Silkworm 165
Stories from Botany.
'The Apple -Tree 170
—The Old Poplar . , 172
-The Bird -Cherry 174
-How Trees Walk 176
-The Decembrists 181
-On Popular Education 251
-What Men Live By 327
"The Three Hermits 363
-Neglect the Fire 375
'The Candle • . < - • • . .395
-The Two Oli> Men. ','.::'. . . . .409
-Where Love Is, The*ie God, Is Also .... 445
TEXTS FOS CHAPP-OOK ILLUSTRATIONS
'-The Fiend Persists, su'}' God -Resists
•»-LiTTLE Girls Wiser than Old People
^Thk Two Brothers and the Gold
-— IlyjCs
— - A Fairy - Talk about IvXn the Fool
463
466
469
472
481
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAQB
" The clerk beat Sidor's face until the blood
CAME " (v. 397) Frontispiece
From Painting by A. KivsMnko.
" ' God will forgive you '" 81
From Painting by A. KivsMnko.
"'Whither are you bound?'" 332
From, Painting by A. KivsMnko.
Tolstoy, Vol. XII.
FABLES FOR CHILDREN
1869 - 1872
FABLES FOR CHILDREN
I. JESOF'S FABLES
THE ANT AND THE DOVE
An Ant came down to the brook : he wanted to drink.
A wave washed him down and almost drowued him. A
Dove was carrying a branch ; she saw the Ant was drown-
ing, so she cast the branch down to him in the brook.
The Ant got up on the branch and was saved. Then a
hunter placed a snare for the Dove, and was on the point
of drawing it in. The Ant crawled up to the hunter and
bit him on the leg ; the hunter groaned and dropped the
snare. The Dove fluttered upwards and flew away.
THE TURTLE AND THE EAGLE
A Turtle asked an Eagle to teach her how to fly. The
Eagle advised her not to try, as she was not fit for it ;
but she insisted. The Eagle took her in his claws, raised
her up, and dropped her : she fell on stones and broke to
pieces.
THE POLECAT
A Polecat entered a smithy and began to lick the fil-
ings. Blood began to flow from the Polecat's mouth, but
he was glad and continued to lick ; he thought that the
3
4 FABLES FOR CHILDREN
blood was coining from the iron, and lost his whole
tongue,
THE LION AND THE MOUSE
A Lion was sleeping. A Mouse ran over his body.
He awoke and caught her. The Mouse besought him ;
she said :
" Let me go, and I will do you a favour ! "
The Lion laughed at the Mouse for promising him a
favour, and let her go.
Then the hunters caught the Lion and tied him with a
rope to a tree. The Mouse heard the Lion's roar, ran up,
gnawed the rope through, and said :
" Do you remember ? You laughed, not thinking that
I could repay, but now you see that a favour may come
also from a Mouse."
THE LIAK
A Boy was watching the sheep and, pretending that he
saw a wolf, he began to cry :
" Help ! A wolf ! A wolf ! "
The peasants came running up and saw that it was not
so. After doing this for a second and a third time, it
happened that a wolf came indeed. The Boy began to
cry:
" Come, come, quickly, a wolf ! "
The peasants thought that he was deceiving them as
usual, and paid no attention to him. The wolf saw
there was no reason to be afraid : he leisurely killed the
whole flock.
THE ASS AND THE HORSE
A man had an Ass and a Horse. They were walking
on the road ; the Ass said to the Horse :
" It is heavy for me, — I shall not be able to carry it
all ; take at least a part of my load."
FABLES FOR CHILDREN 5
The Horse paid no attention to him. The Ass fell
down from overstraining himself, and died. When the
master transferred the Ass's load on the Horse, and added
the Ass's hide, the Horse began to complain :
"Oh, woe to me, poor one, woe to me, unfortunate
Horse! I did not want to help him even a little, and
now I have to carry everythmg, and his hide, too."
THE JACKDAW AND THE DOVES
A Jackdaw saw that the Doves were well fed, — so
she painted herself white and flew into the dove-cot.
The Doves thought at first that she was a dove like
them, and let her in. But the Jackdaw forgot herself
and croaked in jackdaw fashion. Then the Doves began
to pick at her and drove her away. The Jackdaw flew
back to her friends, but the jackdaws were frightened at
her, seeing her white, and themselves drove her away.
THE WOMAN AND THE HEN
A Hen laid an egg each day. The Mistress thought
that if she gave her more to eat, she would lay twice as
much. So she did. The Hen grew fat and stopped lay-
ing.
THE LION, THE BEAE, AND THE FOX
A Lion and a Bear procured some meat and began to
fight for it. The Bear did not want to give in, nor did
the Lion yield. They fought for so long a time that they
both grew feeble and lay down. A Fox saw the meat
between them ; she grabbed it and ran away with it.
THE DOG, THE COCK, AND THE FOX
A Dog and a Cock went to travel together. At night
the Cock fell asleep in a tree, and the Dog fixed a place
6 FABLES FOR CHILDREN
for himself between the roots of that tree. When the
time came, the Cock began to crow. A Fox heard the
Cock, ran up to the tree, and began to beg the Cock to
come down, as she wanted to give him her respects for
such a fine voice.
The Cock said :
" You must first wake up the janitor, — he is sleeping
between the roots. Let him open up, and I will come
down."
The Fox began to look for the janitor, and started
yelping. The Dog sprang out at once and killed the
Fox.
THE HORSE AND THE GROOM
A Groom stole the Horse's oats, and sold them, but
he cleaned the Horse each day. Said the Horse :
" If you really wish me to be in good condition, do not
sell my oats."
THE FROG AND THE LION
A Lion heard a Frog croaking, and thought it was a
large beast that was calling so loud. He walked up,
and saw a Frog coining out of the swamp. The Lion
crushed her with his paw and said :
" There is nothing to look at, and yet I was fright-
ened."
THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE ANTS
In the fall the wheat of the Ants got wet ; they were
drying it. A hungry Grasshopper asked them for some-
thing to eat. The Ants said :
" Why did you not gather food during the summer ? "
She said :
" I had no time : I sang songs."
They laughed, and said :
" If you sang in the summer, dance in the winter ! "
FABLES FOR CHILDREN 7
THE HEN AND THE GOLDEN EGGS
A master had a Hen which laid golden eggs. He
wanted more gold at once, and so killed the Hen (he
thought that inside of her there was a large lump of gold),
bat she was just like any other hen.
THE ASS IN THE LIONS SKIN
An Ass put on a hon's skin, and all thought it was a
lion. Men and animals ran away from him. A wind
sprang up, and the skin was blown aside, and the Ass
could be seen. People ran up and beat the Ass.
THE HEN AND THE SWALLOW
A Hen found some snake's eggs and began to sit on
them. A Swallow saw it and said :
" Stupid one ! You will hatch them out, and, when
they grow up, you will be the first one to suffer from
them."
THE STAG AND THE FAWN
A Fawn once said to a Stag :
" Father, you are larger and fleeter than the dogs, and,
besides, you have huge antlers for defence ; why, then, are
you so afraid of the dogs ? "
The Stag laughed, and said :
"You speak the truth, my child. The trouble is, —
the moment I hear the dogs bark, I run before I have
time to think."
THE FOX AND THE GEAPES
A Fox saw some ripe bunches of grapes hanging high,
and tried to get at them, in order to eat them.
8 FABLES FOR CHILDREN
She tried hard, but could not get them. To drown her
annoyance she said :
" They are still sour."
THE MAIDS AND THE COCK
A mistress used to wake the Maids at night and, as
soon as the cocks crowed, put them to work. The Maids
found that hard, and decided to kill the Cock, so that the
mistress should not be wakened. They killed him, but
now they suffered more than ever : the mistress was
afraid that she would sleep past the time and so began
to wake the Maids earlier.
THE FISHERMAN AND THE FISH
A Fisherman caught a Fish. Said the Fish :
" Fisherman, let me go into the water ; you see I am
small : you will have little profit of me. If you let me
go, I shall grow up, and then you will catch me when it
will be worth while."
But the Fisherman said :
" A fool would be he who should wait for greater profit,
and let the lesser slip out of his hands."
THE FOX AND THE GOAT
A Goat wanted to drink. He went down the incline
to the well, drank his fill, and gained in weight. He
started to get out, but could not do so. He began to
bleat. A Fox saw him and said :
" That's it, stupid one ! If you had as much sense in
your head as there are hairs in your beard, you would
have thought of how to get out before you climbed down."
THE DOG AND HER SHADOW
A Dog was crossing the river over a plank, carrying a
piece of meat in her teeth. She saw herself in the water
FABLES FOB CHILDREN 9
and thought that another dog was carrying a piece of
meat. She dropped her piece and dashed forward to take
away what the other dog had : the other meat was gone,
and her own was carried away by the stream.
And thus the Dog was left without anything.
THE CRANE AND THE STORK
A peasant put out his nets to catch the Cranes for
tramping down his field. In the nets were caught the
Cranes, and with them one Stork.
The Stork said to the peasant :
" Let me go ! I am not a Crane, but a Stork ; we are
most honoured birds ; I live on your father's house. You
can see by my feathers that I am not a Crane."
The peasant said :
" With the Cranes I have caught you, and with them
will I kill you."
THE GARDENER AND HIS SONS
A Gardener wanted his Sons to get used to gardening.
As he was dying, he called them up and said to them :
" Children, when I am dead, look for what is hidden in
the vineyard."
The Sons thought that it was a treasure, and when
their father died, they began to dig there, and dug up the
whole ground. They did not find the treasure, but they
ploughed the vineyard up so well that it brought forth
more fruit than ever.
THE WOLF AND THE CRANE
A Wolf had a bone stuck in his throat, and could not
cough it up. He called the Crane, and said to him :
" Crane, you have a long neck. Thrust your head into
my throat and draw out the bone ! I will reward you."
iO FABLES FOR CHILDREN
The Crane stuck his head in, pulled out the bone, and
said :
" Give me my reward ! "
The Wolf gnashed his teeth and said :
" Is it not enough reward for you that I did
not bite off your head when it was between my
teeth ? "
THE HAKES AND THE FROGS
The Hares once got together, and began to complain
about their life :
" We perish from men, and from dogs, and from eagles,
and from all the other beasts. It would be better to die
at once than to hve in fright and suffer. Come, let us
drown ourselves ! "
And the Hares raced away to drown themselves in a
lake. The Frogs heard the Hares and plumped into the
water. So one of the Hares said :
" Wait, boys ! Let us put off the drowning ! Evidently
the Frogs are having a harder hfe than we: they are
afraid even of us."
THE FATHER AND HIS SONS
A Father told his Sons to live in peace : they paid no
attention to him. So he told them to bring the bath
broom, and said :
« Break it ! "
No matter how much they tried, they could not
break it. Then the Father unclosed the broom,
and told them to break the rods singly. They
broke it.
The Father said : •
" So it is with you : if you live in peace, no one will
overcome you ; but if you quarrel, and are divided, any
one will easily ruin you."
FABLES FOR CHILDREN 11
THE FOX
A Fox got caught in a trap. She tore off her tail, and
got away. She began to contrive how to cover up her
shame. She called together the Foxes, and begged them
to cut off their tails.
" A tail," she said, " is a useless thing. In vain do we
drag along a dead weight."
One of the Foxes said :
" You would not be speaking thus, if you were not tail-
less ! "
The tailless Fox grew silent and went away.
THE WILD ASS AND THE TAME ASS
A Wild Ass saw a Tame Ass. The Wild Ass went up
to him and began to praise his life, saying how smooth his
body was, and what sweet feed he received. Later, when
the Tame Ass was loaded down, and a driver began to
goad him with a stick, the Wild Ass said :
" No, brother, I do not envy you : I see that your life
is going hard with you."
THE STAG
A stag went to the brook to quench his thirst. He
saw himself in the water, and began to admire his horns,
seeing how large and branching they were ; and he looked
at his feet, and said : " But my feet are unseemly and
thin."
Suddenly a Lion sprang out and made for the Stag.
The Stag started to run over the open plain. He was get-
ting away, but there came a forest, and his horns caught
in the branches, and the hon caught him. As the Stag
was dying, he said :
"How foohsh I am! That which I thought to be
unseemly and thin was saving me, and what I gloried in
has been my ruin."
12 FABLES FOR CHILDREN
THE DOG AND THE WOLF
A Dog fell asleep back of the yard. A Wolf ran up and
wanted to eat him.
Said the Dog :
" Wolf, don't eat me yet : now I am lean and bony. Wait
a little, — my master is going to celebrate a wedding ;
then I shall have plenty to eat ; I shall grow fat. It will
be better to eat me then."
The Wolf beheved her, and went away. Then he came
a second time, and saw the Dog lying on the roof. The
Wolf said to her :
" Well, have they had the wedding ? "
The Dog repHed :
" Listen, Wolf ! If you catch me again asleep in front
of the yard, do not wait for the wedding,"
THE GNAT AND THE LION
A Gnat came to a Lion, and said :
" Do you think that you have more strength than I ?
You are mistaken ! What does your strength consist in ?
Is it that you scratch with your claws, and gnaw with
your teeth ? That is the way the women quarrel with
their husbands. I am stronger than you : if you wish
let us fight ! "
And the Gnat sounded his horn, and began to bite the
Lion on his bare cheeks and his nose. The Lion struck
his face with his paws and scratched it with his
claws. He tore his face until the blood came, and
gave up.
The Gnat trumpeted for joy, and flew away. Then he
became entangled in a spider's web, and the spider began
to suck him up. The Gnat said :
" I have vanquished the strong beast, the Lion, and
now I perish from this nasty spider."
FABLES FOR CHILDREN 13
THE HORSE AND HIS MASTERS
A gardener had a Horse. She had much to do, but
little to eat ; so she began to pray to God to get another
master. And so it happened. The gardener sold the
Horse to a potter. The Horse was glad, but the potter
had even more work for her to do. And again the Horse
complained of her lot, and began to pray that she might
get a better master. And this prayer, too, was fulfilled.
The potter sold the Horse to a tanner. When the Horse
saw the skins of horses in the tanner's yard, she began to
cry:
" Woe to me, wretched one ! It would be better if I
could stay with my old masters. It is evident they have
sold me now not for work, but for my skin's sake."
THE OLD MAN AND DEATH
An Old Man cut some w^ood, which he carried away.
He had to carry it far. He grew tired, so he put down
his bundle, and said :
" Oh, if Death would only come ! "
Death came, and said :
" Here I -am, what do you want ? "
The Old Man was frightened, and said :
" lift up my bundle ! "
THE LION AND THE FOX
A Lion, growing old, was unable to catch the animals,
and so intended to live by cunning. He went into a den,
lay down there, and pretended that he w^as sick. The an-
imals came to see him, and he ate up those that went into
his den. The Fox guessed the trick. She stood at the
entrance of the den, and said :
" Well, Lion, how are you feeling ? "
The Lion answered :
14 FABLES FOR CHILDREN
" Poorly. Why don't you come in ? "
The Fox replied :
" I do not come in because I see by the tracks that
many have entered, but none have come out."
THE STAG AND THE VINEYARD
A Stag hid himself from the hunters in a vineyard.
When the hunters missed him, the Stag began to nibble
at the grape-vine leaves.
The hunters noticed that the leaves were moving, and
so they thought, " There must be an animal under those
leaves," and fired their guns, and wounded the Stag.
The Stag said, dying :
" It serves me right for wanting to eat the leaves that
saved me."
THE CAT AND THE MICE
A house was overrun with Mice. A Cat found his
way into the house, and began to catch them. The Mice
saw that matters were bad, and said :
" Mice, let us not come down from the ceiling ! The
Cat cannot get up there."
When the Mice stopped coming down, the Cat decided
that he must catch them by a trick. He grasped the ceil-
ing with one leg, hung down from it, and made believe
that he was dead.
A Mouse looked out at him, but said :
" No, my friend ! Even if you should turn into a bag,
I would not go up to you."
THE WOLF AND THE GOAT
A Wolf saw a Goat browsing on a rocky mountain, and
he could not get at her ; so he said to her :
" Come down lower ! The place is more even, and the
grass is much sweeter to feed on."
FABLES FOR CHILDREN 15
But the Goat answered :
" You are not calling me down for that, Wolf : you are
troubling yourself not about my food, but about yours."
THE REEDS AND THE OLIVE - TKEE
The Olive-tree and the Eeeds quarrelled about who was
stronger and sounder. The Olive-tree laughed at the
Reeds because they bent in every wind. The Reeds kept
silence. A storm came : the Reeds swayed, tossed, bowed
to the ground, — and remained unharmed. The Olive-tree
strained her branches against the wind, — and broke.
THE TWO COMPANIONS
Two Companions were walking through the forest
when a Bear jumped out on them. One started to run,
climbed a tree, and hid himself, but the other remained
in the road. He had nothing to do, so he fell down on
the ground and pretended that he was dead.
The Bear went up to him, and sniffed at him ; but he
had stopped breathing.
The Bear suiffed at his face ; he thought that he was
dead, and so went away.
When the Bear was gone, the Companion chmbed down
from the tree and . laughing, said : " What did the Bear
whisper in your ear ? "
" He told me that those who in danger run away from
their companions are bad people."
THE WOLF AND THE LAMB
A Wolf saw a Lamb drinking at a river. The Wolf
wanted to eat the Lamb, and so he began to annoy him.
He said :
" You are muddling my water and do not let me
drink."
16 FABLES FOR CHILDREN
The Lamb said :
" How can I muddle your water ? I am standing down-
stream from you ; besides, I drink with the tips of my
Ups."
And the Wolf said :
" Well, why did you call my father names last sum-
mer ? "
The Lamb said :
" But, Wolf, I was not yet born last summer."
The Wolf got angry, and said :
" It is hard to get the best of you. Besides, my stom-
ach is empty, so I will devour you."
THE LION, THE WOLF, AND THE FOX
An old, sick Lion was lying in his den. All the ani-
mals came to see the king, but the Fox kept away. So
the Wolf was glad of the chance, and began to slander the
Fox before the Lion.
" She does not esteem you in the least," he said, " she
has not come once to see the king."
The Fox happened to run by as he was saying these
words. She heard what the Wolf had said, and thought :
" Wait, Wolf, I will get my revenge on you."
So the Lion began to roar at the Fox, but she said :
" Do not have me killed, but let me say a word ! I did
not come to see you because I had no time. And I had
no time because I ran over the whole world to ask the
doctors for a remedy for you. I have just got it, and so I
have come to see you."
The Lion said :
" What is the remedy ? "
" It is this : if you flay a live Wolf, and put his warm
hide on you — "
When the Lion stretched out the Wolf, the Fox laughed,
and said :
FABLES FOR CHILDREN 17
•' That's it, my friend : masters ought to be led to do
good, not evil."
THE LION, THE ASS, AND THE FOX
The Lion, the Ass, and the Fox went out to hunt. They
caught a large number of animals, and the Lion told the
Ass to divide them up. The Ass divided them into three
equal parts and said : " Now, take them ! "
The Lion grew angry, ate up the Ass, and told the Fox
to divide them up anew. The Fox collected them all into
one heap, and left a small bit for herself. The Lion
looked at it and said :
" Clever Fox ! Who taught you to divide so well ? "
She said :
" What about that Ass ? "
THE PEASANT AND THE WATER - SPRITE
A Peasant lost his axe in the river ; he sat down on the
bank in grief, and began to weep.
The Water-sprite heard the Peasant and took pity on
him. He brought a gold axe out of the river, and said :
" Is this your axe ? "
The Peasant said : " No, it is not mine."
The Water-sprite brought another, a silver axe.
Again the Peasant said : " It is not my axe."
Then the Water-sprite brought out the real axe.
The Peasant said : " Now this is my axe."
The Water-sprite made the Peasant a present of all three
axes, for having told the truth.
At home the Peasant showed his axes to his friends,
and told them what had happened to him.
One of the peasants made up his mind to do the same :
he went to the river, purposely threw his axe into the
water, sat down on the bank, and began to weep.
18 FABLES FOR CHILDREN
The Water-sprite brought out a gold axe, and asked : " Is
this your axe ? "
The Peasant was glad, and called out : " It is mine,
mine ! "
The Water-sprite did not give him the gold axe, and did
not bring him back his own either, because he had told an
untruth.
THE RAVEN AND THE FOX
A Kaven got himself a piece of meat, and sat down on
a tree. The Fox wanted to get it from him. She went
up to him, and said :
" Oh, Raven, as I look at you, — from your size and
beauty, — you ought to be a king ! And you would
certainly be a king, if you had a good voice."
The Eaven opened his mouth wide, and began to croak
with all his might and main. The meat fell down. The
Fox caught it and said :
" Oh, Eaven ! If you had also sense, you would cer-
tainly be a king.*
II. ADAPTATIONS AND IMITA-
TIONS OF HINDOO FABLES
THE snake's head AND TAIL
The Snake's Tail had a quarrel with the Snake's Head
about who was to walk in front. The Head said :
" You cannot walk in front, because you have no eyes
and no ears."
The Tail said :
" Yes, but I have strength, I move you ; if I want to, I
can wind myself around a tree, and you cannot get off the
spot."
The Head said :
" Let us separate ! "
And the Tail tore himself loose from the Head, and
crept on ; but the moment he got away from the Head, he
fell into a hole and was lost.
fine thread
A Man ordered some fine thread from a Spinner. The
Spinner spun it for him, but the Man said that the thread
was not good, and that he wanted the finest thread he
could get. The Spinner said :
" If this is not fine enough, take this ! " and she pointed
to an empty space.
He said that he did not see any. The Spinuer said :
" You do not see it, because it is so fine. I do not see
it myself."
The Fool was glad, and ordered some more thread of
this kind, and paid her for what he got.
19
20 FABLES FOR CHILDREN
THE PARTITION OF THE INHERITANCE
A Father had two Sons. He said to them : " When I
die, divide everything into two equal parts."
When the Father died, the Sons could not divide with-
out quarrelling. They went to a Neighbour to have him
settle the matter. The Neighbour asked them how their
Father had told them to divide. They said :
" He ordered us to divide everything into two equal
parts."
The Neighbour said :
" If so, tear all your garments into two halves, break
your dishes into two halves, and cut all your cattle into
two halves ! "
The Brothers obeyed their Neighbour, and lost every-
thing.
THE MONKEY
A Man went into the woods, cut down a tree, and
began to saw it. He raised the end of the tree on a
stump, sat astride over it, and began to saw. Then he
drove a wedge into the split that he had sawed, and went
on sawing ; then he took out the wedge and drove it in
farther down.
A Monkey was sitting on a tree and watching him.
When the Man lay down to sleep, the Monkey seated
herself astride the tree, and wanted to do the same ; but
when she took out the wedge, the tree sprang back and
caught her tail. She began to tug and to cry. The Man
woke up, beat the Monkey, and tied a rope to her.
THE MONKEY AND THE PEASE
A Monkey was carrying both her hands full of pease.
A pea dropped on the ground ; the Monkey wanted to
pick it up, and dropped twenty peas. She rushed to pick
FABLES FOR CHILDREN 21
them up and lost all the rest. Then she flew into a rage,
swept away all the pease and ran off.
THE MILCH cow
A Man had a Cow ; she gave each day a pot full of
milk. The Man invited a number of guests. To have as
much milk as possible, he did not milk the Cow for ten
days. He thought that on the tenth day the Cow would
give him ten pitchers of milk.
But the Cow's milk went back, and she gave less milk
than before.
THE DUCK AND THE MOON
A Duck was swimming in the pond, trying to find
some fish, but she did not find one in a whole day.
When night came, she saw the Moon in the water; she
thought that it was a fish, and plunged in to catch the
Moon. The other ducks saw her do it and laughed at
her.
That made the Duck feel so ashamed and bashful that
when she saw a fish under the water, she did not try to
catch it, and so died of hunger.
THE WOLF IN THE DUST
A Wolf wanted to pick a sheep out of a flock, and
stepped into the wind, so that the dust of the flock might
blow on him.
The Sheep Dog saw him, and said :
" There is no sense. Wolf, in your walking in the dust :
it will make your eyes ache."
But the Wolf said :
" The trouble is. Doggy, that my eyes have been aching
for quite awhile, and I have been told that the dust from
a flock of sheep will cure the eyes."
22 FABLES FOR CHILDREN
THE MOUSE UNDER THE GRANARY
A Mouse was living under the granary. In the floor
of the granary there was a httle hole, and the grain fell
down through it. The Mouse had an easy life of it, but
she wanted to brag of her ease : she gnawed a larger hole
in the floor, and invited other mice.
" Come to a feast with me," said she ; " there will be
plenty to eat for everybody."
When she brought the mice, she saw there was no
hole. The peasant had noticed the big hole in the floor,
and had stopped it up.
THE BEST PEARS
A master sent his Servant to buy the best-tasting pears.
The Servant came to the shop and asked for pears. The
dealer gave him some ; but the Servant said :
" No, give me the best ! "
The dealer said :
" Try one ; you will see that they taste good."
" How shall I know," said the Servant, " that they all
taste good, if I try one only ? "
He bit off a piece from each pear, and brought them
to his master. Then his master sent him away.
THE FALCON AND THE COCK
The Falcon was used to the master, and came to his
hand when he was called ; the Cock ran away from his
master and cried when people went up to him. So the
Falcon said to the Cock :
" In you Cocks there is no gratitude ; one can see that
you are of a common breed. You go to your masters
only when you are hungry. It is different with us wild
birds. We have much strength, and we can fly faster
than anybody ; still we do not fly away from people, but
FABLES FOR CHILDREN 23
of our own accord go to their hands when we are called.
We remember that they feed us."
Then the Cock said :
" You do not run away from people because you have
never seen a roast Falcon, but we, you know, see roast
Cocks."
THE JACKALS AND THE ELEPHANT
The Jackals had eaten up all the carrion in the woods,
and had nothing to eat. So an old Jackal was thinking
how to find something to feed on. He went to an Ele-
phant, and said :
" We had a king, but he became overweening : he told
us to do things that nobody could do ; we want to choose
another king, and my people have sent me to ask you to
be our king. You will have an easy life with us. What-
ever you will order us to do, we will do, and we will
honour you in everything. Come to our kingdom ! "
The Elephant consented, and followed the Jackal.
The Jackal brought him to a swamp. When the Ele-
phant stuck fast in it, the Jackal said :
" Now command ! Whatever you command, we will
do."
The Elephant said :
" I command you to pull me out from here."
The Jackal began to laugh, and said :
" Take hold of my tail with your trunk, and I will
pull you out at once."
The Elephant said :
" Can I be pulled out by a tail ? "
But the Jackal said to him :
" Why, then, do you command us to do what is impos-
sible ? Did we not drive away our first king for tell-
ing us to do what could not be done ? "
When the Elephant died in the swamp the Jackals
came and ate him up.
24 FABLES FOR CHILDREN
THE HERON, THE FISHES, AND THE CRA.B
A Heron was living near a pond. She grew old, and
had no strength left with which to catch the fish. She
began to contrive how to live by cunning. So she said
to the Fishes :
" You Fishes do not know that a calamity is in store
for you : I have heard the people say that they are going
to let off the pond, and catch every one of you. I know
of a nice little pond back of the mountain. I should
like to help you, but I am old, and it is hard for me to
%•"
The Fishes begged the Heron to help them. So the
Heron said :
" All right, I will do what I can for you, and will
carry you over : only I cannot do it at once, — I will
take you there one after another."
And the Fishes were happy ; they kept begging her :
" Carry me over ! Carry me over ! "
And the Heron started carrying them. She would
take one up, would carry her into the field, and would eat
her up. And thus she a.te a large number of Fishes.
In the pond there lived an old Crab. When the Heron
began to take out the Fishes, he saw what was up, and
said:
" Now, Heron, take me to the new abode ! "
The Heron took the Crab and carried him off. When
she flew out on the field, she wanted to throw the Crab
down. But the Crab saw the fish-bones on the ground,
and so squeezed the Heron's neck with his claws, and
choked her to death. Then he crawled back to the pond,
and told the Fishes.
THE WATER - SPRITE AND THE PEARL
A Man was rowing in a boat, and dropped a costly
pearl into the sea. The Man returned to the shore, took
FABLES FOR CHILDREN ^0
a pail, and began to draw up the water and to pour it out
on the land. He drew the water and poured it out for
three days without stopping.
On the fourth day the Water-sprite came out of the sea,
and asked :
" Why are you drawing the water ? "
The Man said :
" I am drawing it because I have dropped a pearl into it."
The Water-sprite asked him :
" Will you stop soon ? "
The Man said :
" I will stop when I dry up the sea."
Then the Water-sprite returned to the sea, brought back
that pearl, and gave it to the Man.
THE BLIND MAN AND THE MILK
A Man born bhnd asked a Seeing Man
" Of what colour is milk ? "
The Seeing Man said : "The colour of milk is the same
as that of white paper."
The Blind Man asked : " Well, does that colour rustle
in your hands like paper ? "
The Seeing Man said : " No, it is as white as white
flour."
The Blind Man asked : " Well, is it as soft and as
powdery as flour ? "
The Seeing Man said : " No, it is simply as white as a
white hare."
The Blind Man asked : " Well, is it as fluffy and soft
as a hare ? "
The Seeing Man said : " No, it is as white as snow."
The Blind Man asked : " Well, is it as cold as snow ? "
And no matter how many examples the Seeing Man
gave, the Blind Man was unable to understand what the
white colour of milk was like.
26 FABLES FOR CHILDREN
THE WOLF AND THE BOW
A hunter went out to hunt with bow and arrows. He
killed a goat. He threw her on his shoulders and carried
her along. On his way he saw a boar. He threw down
the goat, and shot at the boar and wounded him. The
boar rushed against the hunter and butted him to death,
and himself died on the spot. A Wolf scented the blood,
and came to the place where lay the goat, the boar, the
man, and his bow. The Wolf was glad, and said :
" Now I shall have enough to eat for a long time ;
only I will not eat everything at once, but little by
little, so that nothing may be lost : first I will eat the
tougher things, and then I will lunch on what is soft
and sweet."
The Wolf sniffed at the goat, the boar, and the man,
and said :
" This is all soft food, so I will eat it later ; let me first
start on these sinews of the bow."
And he began to gnaw the sinews of the bow. When
he bit threw the string, the bow sprang back and hit him
on his belly. He died on the spot, and other wolves ate
up the man, the goat, the boar, and the Wolf.
THE BIRDS IN THE NET
A Hunter set out a net near a lake and caught a num-
ber of birds. The birds were large, and they raised the
net and flew away with it. The Hunter ran after them.
A Peasant saw the Hunter running, and said :
" Where are you running ? How can you catch up
with the birds, while you are on foot ? "
The Hunter said :
" If it were one bird, I should not catch it, but now I
shall."
And so it happened. When evening came, the birds
FABLES FOR CHILDREN 27
began to pull for the night each in a different direction :
one to the woods, another to the swamp, a third to the
field ; and all fell with the net to the ground, and the
Hunter caught them.
THE KING AND THE FALCON
A certain King let his favourite Falcon loose on a
hare, and galloped after him.
The Falcon caught the hare. The King took him away,
and began to look for some water to drink. The King
found it on a knoll, but it came only drop by drop. The
King fetched his cup from the saddle, and placed it under
the water. The water flowed in drops, and when the
cup was filled, the King raised it to his mouth and
wanted to drink it. Suddenly the Falcon fluttered on the
King's arm and spilled the water. The King placed
the cup once more under the drops. He waited for
a long time for the cup to be filled even with the brim,
and again, as he carried it to his mouth, the Falcon
flapped his wings and spilled the water.
When the King filled his cup for the third time and
began to carry it to his mouth, the Falcon again spilled
it. The King flew into a rage and killed him by fling-
ing him against a stone with all his force. Just then the
King's servants rode up, and one of them ran up-hill to
the spring, to find as much water as possible, and to fill
the cup. But the servant did not bring the water ; he
returned with the empty cup, and said :
" You cannot drink that water ; there is a snake in the
spring, and she has let her venom into the water. It is
fortunate that the Falcon has spilled the water. If you
had drunk it, you would have died."
The King said :
" How badly I have repaid the Falcon ! He has saved
my life, and I killed him."
28 FABLES FOR CHILDREN
THE KING AND THE ELEPHANTS
An Indian King ordered all the Blind People to be as-
sembled, and when they came, he ordered that all the
Elephants be shown to them. The Blind Men went to
the stable and began to feel the Elephants. One felt a
leg, another a tail, a third the stump of a tail, a fourth a
be.Uy, a fifth a back, a sixth the ears, a seventh the tusks,
and an eighth a trunk.
Then the King called the Blind Men, and asked them :
" What are my Elephants like ? "
One Blind Man said : " Your Elephants are like posts."
He had felt the legs.
Another Blind Man said : " They are like bath brooms."
He had felt the end of the tail.
A third said : " They are like branches." He had felt
the tail stump.
The one who had touched a belly said : " The Elephants
are like a clod of earth."
The one who had touched the sides said : " They are
like a wall."
The one who had touched a back said : " They are like
a mound."
The one who had touched the ears said : " They are
like a mortar."
The one who had touched the tusks said : " They are
like horns."
The one who had touched the trunk said that they
were like a stout rope.
And all the Blind Men began to dispute and to quarrel.
WHY THEEE IS EVIL IN THE W^OELD
A Hermit was living in the forest, and the animals
were not afraid of him. He and the animals talked to-
gether and understood each other.
Once the Hermit lay down under a tree, and a Eaven
FABLES FOB CHILDREN 29
a Dove, a Stag, and a Snake gathered in the same place,
to pass the night. The animals began to discuss why
there was evil in the world.
The Raven said :
" All the evil in the world comes from hunger. When
I eat my fill, I sit down on a branch and croak a little,
and it is all jolly and good, and everything gives me
pleasure ; but let me just go without eating a day or two,
and everything palls on me so that I do not feel Hke
looking at God's world. And something draws me on,
and I fly from place to place, and have no rest. When I
catcli a glimpse of some meat, it makes me only feel
sicker than ever, and I make for it without much think-
ing. At times they throw sticks and stones at me, and
the wolves and dogs grab me, but I do not give in. Oh,
how many of my brothers are perishing through hunger !
All evil comes from hunger."
The Dove said :
" According to my opinion, the evil does not come from
hunger, but from love. If we lived singly, the trouble
would not be so bad. One head is not poor, and if it is,
it is only one. But here we live in pairs. And you
come to like your mate so much that you have no rest :
you keep thinking of her all the time, wondering whether
she has had enough to eat, and whether she is warm.
And when your mate flies away from you, you feel en-
tirely lost, and you keep thinking that a hawk may have
carried her off, or men may have caught her ; and you
start out to find her, and fly to your ruin, — either into
the hawk's claws, or into a snare. And when your mate
is lost, nothing gives you any joy. You do not eat or
drink, and all the time search and weep. Oh, so many
of us perish in this way ! All the evil is not from hun-
ger, but from love."
The Snake said :
" No, the evil is not from hunger, nor from love, but
30 FABLES FOR CHILDREN
from rage. If we lived peacefully, without getting into a
rage, everything would be nice for us. But, as it is,
whenever a thing does not go exactly right, we get angry,
and then nothing pleases us. All we think about is how
to revenge ourselves on some one. Then we forget our-
selves, and only hiss, and creep, and try to find some one
to bite. And we do not spai'e a soul, — we even bite
our own father and mother. We feel as though we could
eat ourselves up. And we rage until we perish. All the
evil in the world comes from rage."
The Stag said :
" No, not from rage, or from love, or from hunger does
all the evil in the world come, but from terror. If it
were possible not to be afraid, everything would be well.
We have swift feet and much strength : against a small
animal we defend ourselves with our horns, and from a
large one we flee. But how can I help becoming fright-
ened ? Let a branch crackle in the forest, or a leaf rustle,
and I am all atremble with fear, and my heart flutters as
though it wanted to jump out, and I fly as fast as I can.
Again, let a hare run by, or a bird flap its wings, or a dry
twig break off, and you think that it is a beast, and you
run straight up against him. Or you run away from a
dog and run into the hands of a man. Frequently you
get frightened and run, not knowing whither, and at full
speed rush down a steep hill, and get killed. We have
no rest. All the evil comes from terror."
Then the Hermit said :
" Not from hunger, not from love, not from rage, not
from terror are all our sufferings, but from our bodies
comes all the evil in the world. From them come hun-
ger, and love, and rage, and terror."
THE WOLF AND THE HUNTEES
A Wolf devoured a sheep. The Hunters caught the
Wolf and began to beat him. The Wolf said :
FABLES FOR CHILDREN 31
" In vain do you beat me : it is not my fault that I am
gray, — God has made me so."
But the Hunters said :
" We do not beat the Wolf for being gray, but for eat-
ing the sheep."
THE TWO PEASANTS
Once upon a time two Peasants drove toward each
other and caught in each other's sleighs. One cried :
" Get out of my way, — I am hurrying to town."
But the other said :
" Get out of my way, I am hurrying home."
They quarrelled for some time. A third Peasant saw
them and said :
" If you are in a hurry, back up ! "
THE PEASANT AND THE HOKSE
A Peasant went to town to fetch some oats for his
Horse. He had barely left the village, when the Horse
began to turn around, toward the house. The Peasant
struck the Horse with his whip. She went on, and kept
thinking about the Peasant :
" Whither is that fool driving me ? He had better go
home."
Before reaching town, the Peasant saw that the Horse
trudged along through the mud with difficulty, so he
turned her on the pavement ; but the Horse began to turn
back from the street. The Peasant gave the Horse the
whip, and jerked at the reins ; she went on the pavement,
and thought :
" Why has he turned me on the pavement ? It will
only break my hoofs. It is rough underfoot."
The Peasant went to the shop, bought the oats, and
drove home. When he came home, he gave the Horse
some oats. The Horse ate them and thought :
32 FABLES FOR CHILDREN
" How stupid men are ! They are fond of exercising
their wits on us, but they have less sense than we. What
did he trouble himself about ? He drove me somewhere.
No matter how far we went, we came home in the end.
So it would have been better if we had remained at home
from the start : he could have been sitting on the oven,
and I eating oats."
THE TWO HOKSES
Two Horses were drawing their carts. The Front
Horse pulled well, but the Hind Horse kept stopping all
the time. The load of the Hind Horse was transferred
to the front cart; when all was transferred, the Hind
Horse went along with ease, and said to the Front Horse :
" Work hard and sweat ! The more you try, the harder
they will make you work."
When they arrived at the tavern, their master said :
" Why should I feed two Horses, and haul with one
only ? I shall do better to give one plenty to eat, and to
kill the other : I shall at least have her hide."
So he did.
THE AXE AND THE SAW
Two Peasants went to the forest to cut wood. One of
them had an axe, and the other a saw. They picked out
a tree, and began to dispute. One said that the tree had
to be chopped, while the other said that it had to be sawed
down.
A third Peasant said :
" I will easily make peace between you : if the axe is
sharp, you had better chop it ; but if the saw is sharp you
had better saw it."
He took the axe, and began to chop it ; but the axe
was so dull that it was not possible to cut with it. Then
he took the saw ; the saw was worthless, and did not
saw. So he said :
FABLES FOR CHILDREN 33
" Stop quarrelling awhile ; the axe does not chop, and
the saw does not saw. First grind your axe and file your
saw, and then quarrel."
But the Peasants grew angrier still at one another, be-
cause one had a dull axe, and the other a dull saw. And
they came to blows.
THE DOGS AND THE COOK
A Cook was preparing a dinner. The Dogs were lying
at the kitchen door. The Cook killed a calf and threw
the guts out into the yard. The Dogs picked them up
and ate them, and said :
" He is a good Cook : he cooks well."
After awhile the Cook began to clean pease, turnips,
and onions, and threw out the refuse. The Dogs made
for it ; but they turned their noses up, and said :
" Our Cook has grown worse : he used to cook well,
but now he is no longer any good."
But the Cook paid no attention to the Dogs, and con-
tinued to fix the dinner in his own way. The family,
and not the Dogs, ate the dinner, and praised it.
THE HAKE AND THE HAKEIER
A Hare once said to a Harrier :
" Why do you bark when you run after us ? You
would catch us easier, if you ran after us in silence.
With your bark you only drive us against the hunter :
he hears w^here we are running ; and he rushes out with
his gun and kills us, and does not give you anything."
The Harrier said :
" That is not the reason why I bark. I bark because,
when I scent your odour, I am angry, and happy because
I am about to catch you ; I do not know why, but I can-
not keep from barking."
34 FABLES FOR CHILDREN
THE OAK AND THE HAZELBUSH
An old Oak dropped an acorn under a Hazelbush. The
Hazelbush said to the Oak :
" Have you not enough space under your own branches ?
Drop your acorns in an open space. Here I am myself
crowded by my shoots, and I do not drop my nuts to the
ground, but give them to men."
" I. have lived for two hundred years," said the Oak,
" and the Oakling which will sprout from that acorn will
live just as long."
Then the Hazelbush flew into a rage, and said :
" If so, I will choke your Oakling, and he will not live
for three days."
The Oak made no reply, but told his son to sprout out
of that acorn. The acorn got wet and burst, and clung
to the ground with his crooked rootlet, and sent up a
sprout.
The Hazelbush tried to choke him, and gave him no
sun. But the Oakling spread upwards and grew stronger
in the shade of the Hazelbush. A hundred years passed.
The Hazelbush had long ago dried up, but the Oak from
that acorn towered to the sky and spread his tent in all
directions.
THE HEN AND THE CHICKS
A Hen hatched some Chicks, but did not know how to
take care of them. So she said to them :
" Creep back into your shells ! When you are inside
your shells, I will sit on you as before, and will take care
of you."
The Chicks did as they were ordered and tried to creep
into their shells, but were unable to do so, and only
crushed their wings. Then one of the Chicks said to his
mother :
" If we are to stay all the time in our shells, you ought
never to have hatched us."
FABLES FOR CHILDREN 35
THE COKN- CRAKE AND HIS MATE
A Corn-crake had made a nest in the meadow late in
the year, and at mowing time his Mate was still sitting
on her eggs. Early in the morning the peasants came to
the meadow, took off their coats, whetted their scythes,
and started one after another to mow down the grass and
to put it down in rows. The Corn-crake flew up to see
what the mowers were doing. When he saw a peasant
swing his scythe and cut a snake in two, he rejoiced and
flew back to his Mate and said :
" Don't fear the peasants ! They have come to cut the
snakes to pieces ; they have given us no rest for quite
awhile."
But his Mate said :
" The peasants are cutting the grass, and with the grass
they are cutting everything which is in their way, — the
snakes, and the Corn-crake's nest, and the Corn-crake's
head. My heart forebodes nothing good : but I cannot
carry away the eggs, nor fly from the nest, for fear of
chilling them."
When the mowers came to the nest of the Corn-crake,
one of the peasants swung his scythe and cut of the head
of the Corn-crake's Mate, and put the eggs in his bosom
and gave them to his children to play with.
THE cow AND THE BILLY GOAT
An old woman had a Cow and a Billy Goat. The two
pastured together. At milking the Cow was restless.
The old woman brought out some bread and salt, and
gave it to the Cow, and said :
" Stand still, motherkin ; take it, take it ! I will bring
you some more, only stand still."
On the next evening the Goat came home from the
field before the Cow, and s]5read his legs, and stood in
front of the old woman. The old woman wanted to strike
36 FABLES FOR CHILDREN
him with the towel, but he stood still, and did not stir.
He remembered that the woman had promised the Cow
some bread if she would stand still. When the woman
saw that he would not budge, she picked up a stick, and
beat him with it.
When the Goat went away, the woman began once
more to feed the Cow with bread, and to talk to her.
" There is no honesty in men," thought the Goat. " I
stood still better than the Cow, and was beaten for it."
He stepped aside, took a run, hit against the milk-pail,
spilled the milk, and hurt the old woman.
THE fox's tail
A Man caught a Fox, and asked her :
" Who has taught you Foxes to cheat the dogs with
your tails ? "
The Fox asked : " How do you mean, to cheat ? We
do not cheat the dogs, but simply run from them as fast
as we can."
The Man said :
" Yes, you do cheat them with your tails. When the
dogs catch up with you and are about to clutch you, you
turn your tails to one side ; the dogs turn sharply after
the tail, and then you run in the opposite direction."
The Fox laughed, and said :
" We do not do so in order to cheat the dogs, but in
order to turn around ; when a dog is after us, and we see
that we cannot get away straight ahead, we turn to one
side, and in order to do that suddenly, we have to swing
the tail to the other side, just as you do with your arms,
when you have to turn around. That is not our inven-
tion ; God himself invented it when He created us, so that
the dogs might not be able to catch all the Foxes."
STORIES FOR CHILDREN
1869- 1872
STORIES FOR CHILDREN
THE FOUNDLING
A POOR woman had a daughter by the name of Masha.
Masha went in the morning to fetch water, and saw at the
door something wrapped in rags. When she touched
the rags, there came from it the sound of " Ooah, ooah,
ooah ! " Masha bent down and saw that it was a tiny, red-
skinned baby. It was crying aloud : " Ooah, ooah ! "
Masha took it into her arms and carried it into the
house, and gave it milk with a spoon. Her mother said :
" What have you brought ? "
" A baby. I found it at our door,"
The mother said :
" We are poor as it is ; we have nothing to feed the
baby with ; I will go to the chief and tell him to take
the baby."
Masha began to cry, and said :
" Mother, the child will not eat much ; leave it here !
See what red, wrinkled little hands and fingers it has ! "
Her mother looked at them, and she felt pity for the
child. She did not take the baby away. Masha fed and
swathed the child, and sang songs to it, when it went to
sleep.
THE PEASANT AND THE CUCUMBERS
A PEASANT once went to the gardener's, to steal cucum-
bers. He crept up to the cucumbers, and thought :
" I will carry off a bag of cucumbers, which I will sell ;
with the money I will buy a hen. The hen will lay eggs,
hatch them, and raise a lot of chicks. I will feed the
chicks and sell them ; then I will buy me a young sow,
and she will bear a lot of pigs. I will sell the pigs, and
buy me a mare ; the mare will foal me some colts. I
will raise the colts, and sell them. I will buy me a house,
and start a garden. In the garden I will sow cucumbers,
and will not let them be stolen, but will keep a sharp
watch on them. I will hire watchmen, and put them in
the cucumber patch, while I myself will come on them,
unawares, and shout : ' Oh, there, keep a sharp lookout ! ' "
And this he shouted as loud as he could. The watch-
men heard it, and they rushed out and beat the peasant.
THE FIEE
During harvest-time the men and women went out to
work. In the village were left only the old and the very-
young. In one hut there remained a grandmother with
her three grandchildren.
The grandmother made a fire in the oven, and lay down
to rest herseK. Flies kept alighting on her and biting
her. She covered her head with a towel and fell asleep.
One of the grandchildren, Masha (she was three years
old), opened the oven, scraped some coals into a potsherd,
and went into the vestibule. In the vestibule lay sheaves :
the women were getting them bound.
Masha brought the coals, put them under the sheaves,
and began to blow. When the straw caught fire, she was
glad ; she went into the hut and took her brother Kir-
yusha by the arm (he was a year and a half old, and had
just learned to walk), and brought him out, and said to
him :
" See, Kilyiiska, what a fire I have kindled."
The sheaves were already burning and crackling. When
the vestibule was filled with smoke, Masha became fright-
ened and ran back into the house. Kiryusha fell over
the threshold, hurt his nose, and began to cry ; Masha
pulled him into the house, and both hid under a bench.
The grandmother heard nothing, and did not wake.
The elder boy, Vanya (he was eight years old), was in the
street. When he saw the smoke rolling out of the vesti-
bule, he ran to the door, made his way through the smoke
into the house, and began to waken his grandmother;
but she was dazed from her sleep, and, forgetting the
41
42 STORIES FOR CHILDREN
children, rushed out and ran to the farmyards to call the
people.
In the meantime Masha was sitting under the bench
and keeping quiet ; but the httle boy cried, because he had
hurt his nose badly. Vanya heard his cry, looked under
the bench, and called out to Masha :
" Run, you will burn ! "
Masha ran to the vestil.uxle, but could not pass for the
smoke and fire. She turned back. Then Vanya raised a
window and told her to climb through it. When she got
through, Vanya picked up his brother and dragged him
along. But the child was heavy and did not let his
brother take him. He cried and pushed Vanya. Vanya
fell down twice, and when he dragged him up to the win-
dow, the door of the hut was already burning. Vanya
thrust the child's head through the window and wanted to
push him through ; but the child took hold of him with
both his hands (he was very much frightened) and would
not let them take him out. Then Vanya cried to Masha :
" Pull him by the head ! " while he himself pushed him
behind.
And thus they pulled him through the window and
into the street.
THE OLD HOESE
In our village there was an old, old man, Pimen Timo-
f^ich. He was ninety years old. He was living at the
house of his grandson, doing no work. His back was
bent : he walked with a cane and moved his feet
slowly.
He had no teeth at all, and his face was wrinkled. His
nether lip trembled ; when he walked and when he talked,
his lips smacked, and one could not understand what he
was saying.
We were four brothers, and we were fond of riding.
But we had no gentle riding-horses. We were allowed to
ride only on one horse, — the name of that horse was
Raven.
One day mamma allowed us to ride, and all of us went
with the valet to the stable. The coachman saddled Ea-
ven for us, and my eldest brother was the first to take a
ride. He rode for a long time ; he rode to the threshing-
floor and around the garden, and when he came back, we
shouted :
" Now gallop past us ! "
My elder brother began to strike Eaven with his feet
and with the whip, and Eaven galloped past us.
After him, my second brother mounted the horse. He,
too, rode for quite awhile, and he, too, urged Eaven on
with the whip and galloped up the hill. He wanted to
ride longer, but my third brother begged him to let him
ride at once.
My third brother rode to the threshing-floor, and around
the garden, and down the village, and raced up-hill to the
43
44 STORIES FOR CHILDREN
stable. When he rode up to us Raven was panting, and
his neck and shoulders were dark from sweat.
When my turn came, I wanted to surprise my brothers
and to show them how well I could ride, so I began to
drive Raven with all my might, but he did not want to
get away from the stable. And no matter how much I
beat him, he would not run, but only shied and turned
back. I grew angry at the horse, and struck him as hard
as I could with my feet and with the whip. I tried to
strike him in places where it would hurt most ; I broke
the whip and began to strike his head with what was left
of the whip. But Raven would not run. Then I turned
back, rode up to the valet, and asked him for a stout
switch. But the valet said to me :
" Don't ride any more, sir ! Get down ! What use is
there in torturing the horse ? "
I felt offended, and said :
" But I have not had a ride yet. Just watch me gal-
lop ! Please, give me a good-sized switch ! I will heat
him up."
Then the valet shook his head, and said :
" Oh, sir, you have no pity ; why should you heat him
up ? He is twenty years old. The horse is worn out ;
he can barely breathe, and is old. He is so very old !
Just like Pimen Timof^ich. You might just as well sit
down on Timof(5ich's back and urge him on with a switch.
Well, would you not pity him ? "
1 thought of Pimen, and listened to the valet's words.
I climbed down from the horse and, when I saw how his
sweaty sides hung down, how he breathed heavily through
his nostrils, and how he switched his bald tail, I under-
stood that it w^as hard for the horse. Before that I
used to think that it was as much fun for him as
for me. I felt so sorry for Raven that I began to kiss
his sweaty neck and to beg his forgiveness for having
beaten him.
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 45
Since then I have grown to be a big man, and I always
am careful with the horses, and always think of Raven
and of Pimen Timof^itch whenever I see anybody torture
a horse.
HOW I LEAENED TO RIDE
When I was a little fellow, we used to study every day,
and only on Sundays and holidays went out and played
with our brothers. Once my father said :
" The children must learn to ride. Send them to the
riding-school ! "
I was the youngest of the brothers, and I asked :
" May I, too, learn to ride ? "
My father said :
" You will fall down."
I began to beg him to let me learn, and almost cried.
My father said :
" All right, you may go, too. Only look out ! Don't
cry when you fall off. He who does not once fall down
from a horse will not learn to ride."
When Wednesday came, all three of us were taken to
the riding-school. We entered by a large porch, and from
the large porch went to a smaller one. Beyond the porch
was a very large room : instead of a floor it had sand.
And in this room were gentlemen and ladies and just such
boys as we. That was the riding-school. The riding-
school was not very light, and there was a smell of horses,
and you could hear them snap whips and call to the
horses, and the horses strike their hoofs against the
wooden walls. At first I was frightened and could not
see things well. Then our valet called the riding-master,
and said :
" Give these boys some horses : they are going to learn
how to ride."
The master said :
46
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 47
" All right ! "
Then he looked at me, and said :
" He is very small, yet."
But the valet said :
" He promised not to cry when he falls down."
The master laughed and went away.
Then they brought three saddled horses, and we took off
our cloaks and walked down a staircase to the riding-
school. The master was holding a horse by a cord, and
my brothers rode around him. At first they rode at a
slow pace, and later at a trot. Then they brought
a pony. It was a red horse, and his tail was cut off.
He was called Ruddy. The master laughed, and said
to me :
" Well, young gentleman, get on your horse ! "
I was both happy and afraid, and tried to act in such
a manner as not to be noticed by anybody. For a long
time I tried to get my foot into the stirrup, but could not
do it because I was too small. Then the master raised
me up in his hands and put me on the saddle. He said :
" The young master is not heavy, — about two pounds
in weight, that is all."
At first he held me by my hand, but I saw that my
brothers were not held, and so I begged him to let go of
me. He said :
" Are you not afraid ? "
I was very much afraid, but I said that I was not. I
was so much afraid because Ruddy kept dropping his
ears. I thought he was angry at me. The master said :
" Look out, don't fall down ! " and let go of me. At
first Ruddy went at a slow pace, and I sat up straight.
But the saddle was sleek, and I was afraid I would slip
off. The master asked me :
" Well, are you fast in the saddle ? "
I said :
« Yes, I am."
48 STORIES FOR CHILDREN
" If SO, go at a slow trot ! " and the master clicked his
tongue.
Ruddy started at a slow trot, and began to jog me.
But I kept silent, and tried not to slip to one side. The
master praised me :
" Oh, a fine young gentleman, indeed ! "
I was very glad to hear it.
Just then the master's friend went up to him and
began to talk with him, and the master stopped looking
at me.
Suddenly I felt that I had slipped a little to one side
on my saddle. I wanted to straighten myself up, but
was unable to do so. I wanted to call out to the master
to stop the horse, but I thought it would be a disgrace if
I did it, and so kept silence. The master was not looking
at me and Ruddy ran at a trot, and I slipped still more to
one side. I looked at the master and thought that he
would help me, but he was still talking with his friend,
and without looking at me kept repeating :
" Well done, young gentleman ! "
I was now altogether to one side, and was very much
frightened. I thought that I was lost ; but I felt
ashamed to cry. Ruddy shook me up once more, and I
slipped off entirely and fell to the ground. Then Ruddy
stopped, and the master looked at the horse and saw that
I was not on him. He said :
" I declare, my young gentleman has dropped off ! " and
walked over to me.
When I told him that I was not hurt, he laughed and
said:
" A child's body is soft."
I felt like crying. I asked him to put me again on
the horse, and I was lifted on the horse. After that I
did not fall down again.
Thus we rode twice a week in the riding-school, and I
soon learned to ride well, and was not afraid of anjrthing.
THE WILLOW
During Easter week a peasant went out to see whethei
the ground was all thawed out.
He went into the garden and touched the soil with a
stick. The earth was soft. The peasant went into the
woods ; here the catkins were already swelling on the
willows. The peasant thought :
" I will fence my garden with willows ; they will grow
up and will make a good hedge ! "
He took Ms axe, cut down a dozen willows, sharpened
them at the end, and stuck them in the ground.
All the willows sent up sprouts with leaves, and under-
ground let out just such sprouts for roots ; and some of
them took hold of the ground and grew, and others did
not hold well to the ground with their roots, and died
and fell down.
In the fall the peasant was glad at the sight of his
willows : six of them had taken root. The followinsr
spring the sheep killed two willows by gnawing at them,
and only two were left. Next spring the sheep nibbled
at these also. One of them was completely ruined, and
the other came to, took root, and grew to be a tree. In
the spring the bees just buzzed in the willow. In swarm-
ing time the swarms were often put out on the willow,
and the peasants brushed them in. The men and women
frequently ate and slept under the willow, and the chil-
dren climbed on it and broke off rods from it.
The peasant that had set out the willow was long dead,
and still it grew. His eldest son twice cut down its
branches and used them for fire-wood. The willow kept
49
60 STOKIES FOR CHILDREN
growing. They trimmed it all around, and cut it down
to a stump, but in the spring it again sent out twigs,
thinner ones than before, but twice as many as ever, as is
the case with a colt's forelock.
And the eldest son quit farming, and the village was
given up, but the willow grew in the open field. Other
peasants came there, and chopped the willow, but still it
grew. The lightning struck it ; but it sent forth side
branches, and it grew and blossomed. A peasant wanted
to cut it down for a block, but he gave it up, it was too
rotten. It leaned sidewise, and held on with one side
only ; and still it grew, and every year the bees came
there to gather the pollen.
One day, early in the spring, the boys gathered under
the willow, to watch the horses. Tbey felt cold, so they
started a fire. They gathered stubbles, wormwood, and
sticks. One of them climbed on the willow and broke
off a lot of twigs. They put it all in the hollow of the
willow and set fire to it. The tree began to hiss and its
sap to boil, and the smoke rose and the tree burned ; its
whole inside was smudged. The young shoots dried up,
the blossoms withered.
The children drove the horses home. The scorched
willow was left all alone in the field. A black raven
flew by, and he sat down on it, and cried :
" So you are dead, old smudge ! You ought to have
died long ago ! "
BULKA
I HAD a small bulldog. He was called Biilka. He
was black ; only the tips of his front feet were white.
All bulldogs have their lower jaws longer than the upper,
and the upper teeth come down behind the nether teeth,
but Biilka's lower jaw protruded so much that I could
put my finger between the two rows of teeth. His face
was broad, his eyes large, black, and sparkling ; and his
teeth and incisors stood out prominently. He was as
black as a negro. He was gentle and did not bite, but
he was strong and stubborn. If he took hold of a thing,
he clenched his teeth and clung to it like a rag, and it
was not possible to tear him off, any more than as though
he were a lobster.
Once he was let loose on a bear, and he got hold of the
bear's ear and stuck to him like a leech. The bear struck
him with his paws and squeezed him, and shook him
from side to side, but could not tear himself loose from
him, and so he fell down on his head, in order to crush
Billka ; but Billka held on to him until they poured cold
water over him.
I got him as a puppy, and raised him myself. When
I went to the Caucasus, I did not want to take him along,
and so went away from him quietly, ordering him to be
shut up. At the first station I was about to change the
relay, when suddenly I saw something black and shining
coming down the road. It was Bulka in his brass collar.
He was flying at full speed toward the station. He
rushed up to me, licked my hand, and stretched himself
out in the shade under the cart. His tongue stuck out a
51
62 STORIES FOR CHILDREN
whole hand's length. He now drew it in to swallow the
spittle, and now stuck it out again a whole hand's length.
He tried to breathe fast, but could not do so, and his
sides just shook. He turned from one side to the other,
and struck his tail against the ground.
I learned later that after I had left he had broken a
pane, jumped out of the window, and followed my track
along the road, and thus raced twenty versts through the
greatest heat.
BULKA AND THE WILD BOAR
Once we went into the Caucasus to hunt the wild boar,
and Bvilka went with me. The moment the hounds
started, Bulka rushed after them, following their sound,
and disappeared in the forest. That was in the month of
November ; the boars and sows are then very fat.
In the Caucasus there are many edible fruits in the
forests where the boars live : wild grapes, cones, apples,
pears, blackberries, acorns, wild plums. And when all
these fruits get ripe and are touched by the frost, the
boars eat them and grow fat.
At that time a boar gets so fat that he cannot run from
the dogs. When they chase him for about two hours, he
makes for the thicket and there stops. Then the hunters
run up to the place where he stands, and shoot him.
They can tell by the bark of the hounds whether the boar
has stopped, or is running. If he is running, the hounds
yelp, as though they were beaten ; but when he stops,
they bark as though at a man, with a howling sound.
During that chase I ran for a long time through the
forest, but not once did I cross a boar track. Finally I
heard the long-drawn bark and howl of the hounds, and
ran up to that place. I was already near the boar. I
could hear the crashing in the thicket. The boar was
turning around on the dogs, but I could not tell by the
bark that they were not catching him, but only circling
around him. Suddenly I heard something rustle behind
me, and I saw that it was Bulka. He had evidently
strayed from the hounds in the forest and had lost his
way, and now was hearing their barking and making for
53
54 STORIES FOR CHILDREN
them, like me, as fast as he could. He ran across a
clearing through the high grass, and all I could see of
him was his black head and his tongue clinched between
his white teeth. I called him back, but he did not look
around, and ran past me and disappeared in the thicket.
I ran after him, but the farther I went, the more and
more dense did the forest grow. The branches kept
knocking off my cap and struck me in the face, and the
thorns caught in my garments. I was near to the bark-
ing, but could not see anything.
Suddenly I heard the dogs bark louder, and something
crashed loudly, and the boar began to puff and snort. I
immediately made up my mind that Biilka had got up
to him and was busy with him. I ran with all my might
through the thicket to that place. In the densest part of
the thicket I saw a dappled hound. She was barking and
howling in one spot, and within three steps from her
something black coald be seen moving around.
Waen I came nearer, I could make out the boar, and I
heard Bulka whining shrilly. The boar grunted and made
for the hound ; the hound took her tail between her legs
and leaped away. I could see the boar's side and head.
I aimed at his side and fired. I saw that I had hit him.
The boar grunted and crashed through the thicket away
from me. The dogs whimpered and barked in his track ;
I tried to follow them through the undergrowth. Sud-
denly I saw and heard something almost under my feet.
It was Biilka. He was lying on his side and whining.
Under him there was a puddle of blood. I thought the
dog was lost ; but I had no time to look after him, I con-
tinued to make my way through the thicket. Soon I saw
the boar. The dogs were trying to catch him from be-
hind, and he kept turning, now to one side, and now to
another. When the boar saw me, he moved toward me.
I fired a second time, almost resting the barrel against
him, so that his bristles caught fire, and the boar groaned
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 55
and tottered, and with his whole cadaver dropped heavily
on the ground.
When I came up, the boar was dead, and only here and
there did his body jerk and twitch. Some of the dogs,
with bristling hair, were tearing liis belly and legs, while
the others were lapping the blood from his wound.
Then I thought of Bulka, and went back to find him.
He was crawling toward me and groaning. I went up to
him and looked at his wound. His belly was ripped
open, and a whole piece of his guts was sticking out of
his body and dragging on the dry leaves. When my com-
panions came up to me, we put the guts back and sewed
up his belly. While we were sewing him up and sticking
the needle through his skin, he kept licking my hand.
The boar was tied up to the horse's tail, to pull him out
of the forest, and Bulka was put on the horse, and thus
taken home. Biilka was sick for about sis weeks, and
got well again.
PHEASANTS
Wild fowls are called pheasants in the Caucasus. There
are so many of them that they are cheaper there than
tame chickens. Pheasants are hunted with the " hobby,"
by scaring up, and from under dogs. This is the way
they are hunted with the " hobby." They take a piece oi
canvas and stretch it over a frame, and in the middle of
the frame they make a cross piece. They cut a hole in the
canvas. This frame with the canvas is called a hobby.
With this hobby and with the gun they start out at dawn
to the forest. The hobby is carried in front, and through
the hole they look out for the pheasants. The pheasants
feed at daybreak in the clearings. At times it is a whole
brood, — a hen with all her chicks, and at others a cock
with his hen, or several cocks together.
The pheasants do not see the man, and they are not
afraid of the canvas and let the hunter come close to
them. Then the hunter puts down the hobby, sticks his
gun through the rent, and shoots at whichever bird he
pleases.
This is the way they hunt by scaring up. They let a
watch-dog into the forest and follow him. When the dog
finds a pheasant, he rushes for it. The pheasant flies on
a tree, and then the dog begins to bark at it. The hunter
follows up the barking and shoots the pheasant in the
tree. This chase would be easy, if the pheasant alighted
on a tree in an open place, or if it sat still, so that it
might be seen. But they always alight on dense trees,
in the thicket, and when they see the hunter they hide
themselves in the branches. And it is hard to make one's
56
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 67
way through the thicket to the tree on which a pheasant
is sitting, and hard to see it. So long as the dog alone
barks at it, it is not afraid : it sits on a branch and preens
and flaps its wings at the dog. But the moment it sees a
man, it immediately stretches itself out along a bough, so
that only an experienced hunter can tell it, while an inex-
perienced one will stand near by and see nothing.
When the Cossacks steal up to the pheasants, they pull
their caps over their faces and do not look up, because a
pheasant is afraid of a man with his gun, but more still
of his eyes.
This is the way they hunt from under dogs. They take
a setter and follow him to the forest. The dog scents the
place where the pheasants have been feeding at daybreak,
and begins to make out their tracks. No matter how the
pheasants may have mixed them up, a good dog will
always find the last track, that takes them out from the
spot where they have been feeding. The farther the dog
follows the track, the stronger will the scent be, and thus
he will reach the place where the pheasant sits or walks
about in the grass in the daytime. When he comes near
to where the bird is, he thinks that it is right before him,
and starts walking more cautiously so as not to frighten
it, and will stop now and then, ready to jump and catch it.
When the dog comes up very near to the pheasant, it flies
up, and the hunter shoots it.
MILTON AND BULKA
I BOUGHT me a setter to hunt pheasants with. The
name of the dog was Milton. He was a big, thin, gray,
spotted dog, with long lips and ears, and he was very
strong and intelligent. He did not fight with Bulka. No
dog ever tried to get into a fight with Bulka. He needed
only to show his teeth, and the dogs would take their
tails between their legs and slink away.
Once I went with Milton to hunt pheasants. Sud-
denly Bulka ran after me to the forest. I wanted to drive
him back, but could not do so ; and it was too far for me
to take him home. I thought he would not be in my
way, and so walked on ; but the moment Milton scented
a pheasant in the grass and began to search for it, Biilka
rushed forward and tossed from side to side. He tried
to scare up the pheasant before Milton. He heard some-
thing in the grass, and jumped and whirled around ; but
he had a poor scent and could not find the track himself,
but watched Milton, to see where he was running. The
moment Milton started on the trail, Bulka ran ahead of
him. I called Bulka back and beat him, but could not
do a thing with him. The moment Milton began to search,
he darted forward and interfered w^ith him.
I was already on the point of going home, because I
thought that the chase was spoiled ; but Milton found a
better way of cheating Biilka. This is what he did : the
moment Biilka rushed ahead of him, be gave up the trail
and turned in another direction, pretending that he was
searching there. Bulka rushed there where Milton was,
and Milton looked at me and wagged his tail and went
58
STOEIES FOR CHILDREN 69
back to the right trail. Bulka again ran up to Milton and
rushed past him, and again Milton took some ten steps to
one side and cheated Bulka, and again led me straight ;
and so he cheated Biilka all the way and did not let him
spoil the chase.
THE TURTLE
Once I went with Milton to the chase. Near the forest
he began to search. He straightened out his tail, pricked
his ears, and began to sniff. I fixed the gun and followed
him. I thought that he was looking for a partridge, hare,
or pheasant. But Milton did not make for the forest, but
for the field. I followed him and looked ahead of me.
Suddenly 1 saw what he was searching for. In front of
him was running a small turtle, of the size of a cap. Its
bare, dark gray head on a long neck was stretched out like
a pestle ; the turtle in walking stretched its bare legs far
out, and its back was all covered with bark.
When it saw the dog, it hid its legs and head and let
itself down on the grass so that only its shell could be
seen. Milton grabbed it and began to bite at it, but could
not bite through it, because the turtle has just such a shell
on its belly as it has on its back, and has only openings
in front, at the back, and at the sides, where it puts forth
its head, its legs, and its tail.
I took the turtle away from Milton, and tried to see how
its back was painted, and what kind of a shell it had, and
how it hid itself. When you hold it in your hands
and look between the shell, you can see something black
and alive inside, as though in a cellar. I threw away the
turtle, and walked on, but Milton would not leave it, and
carried it in his teeth behind me. Suddenly Milton
whimpered and dropped it. The tiirtle had put forth its
foot inside of his mouth, and had scratched it. That
made him so angry that he began to bark ; he grasped it
once more and carried it behind me. I ordered Milton to
60
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 61
throw it away, but he paid no attention to me. Then I
took the turtle from him and threw it away. But he did
not leave it. He hurriedly dug a hole near it ; when the
hole was dug, he threw the turtle into it and covered it
up with dirt.
The turtles live on land and in the water, like snakes
and frogs. They breed their young from eggs. These
eggs they lay on the ground, and they do not hatch them,
but the eggs burst themselves, like fish spawn, and the
turtles crawl out of them. There are small turtles, not
larger than a saucer, and large ones, seven feet in length
and weighing seven hundredweights. The large turtles
live in the sea.
One turtle lays in the spring hundreds of eggs. The
turtle's shells are its ribs. Men and other animals have
each rib separate, while the turtle's ribs are all grown to-
gether into a shell. But the main thing is that with all
the animals the ribs are inside the flesh, while the turtle
has the ribs on the outside, and the flesh beneath them.
BULKA AND THE WOLF
When I left the Caucasus, they were still fighting there,
and in the night it was dangerous to travel without a
guard.
I wanted to leave as early as possible, and so did not
lie down to sleep.
My friend came to see me off, and we sat the whole
evening and night in the village street, in front of my
cabin.
It was a moonlit night with a mist, and so bright that
one could read, though the moon was not to be seen.
In the middle of the night we suddenly heard a pig
squealing in the yard across the street. One of us cried :
" A wolf is choking the pig ! "
I ran into the house, grasped a loaded gun, and ran
into the street. They were all standing at the gate of
the yard where the pig was squealing, and cried to me :
" Here ! " Milton rushed after me, — no doubt he thought
that I was going out to hunt with the gun ; but Bulka
pricked his short ears, and tossed from side to side, as
though to ask me whom he was to clutch. When I ran
up to the wicker fence, I saw a beast running straight
toward me from the other side of the yard. That was
the wolf. He ran up to the fence and jumped on it. I
stepped aside and fixed my gun. The moment the wolf
jumped down from the fence to my side, I aimed, almost
touching him with the gun, and pulled the trigger ; but
my gun made " Click " and did not go off. The wolf did
not stop, but ran across the street.
62
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 63
Milton and Bvilka made for him. Milton was near to
the wolf, but was afraid to take hold of him ; and no
matter how fast Billka ran on his short legs, he could
not keep up with him. We ran as fast as we could after
the wolf, but both tlie wolf and the dogs disappeared from
sight. Only at the ditch, at the end of the village, did
we hear a low barking and whimpering, and saw the dust
rise in the mist of the moon and the dogs busy with the
wolf. When we ran up to the ditch, the wolf was no
longer there, and both dogs returned to us with raised tails
and angry faces. Biilka snarled and pushed me with his
head : evidently he wanted to tell me something, but did
not know how.
We examined the dogs, and found a small wound on
Bulka's head. He had evidently caught up with the
wolf before he got to the ditch, but had not had a chance
to get hold of him, while the wolf snapped at him and
ran away. It was a small wound, so there was no danger.
We returned to the cabin, and sat down and talked
about what had happened. I was angry because the gun
had missed fire, and thought of how the wolf would have
remained on the spot, if the gun had shot. My friend
wondered how the wolf could have crept into the yard.
An old Cossack said that there was nothing remarkable
about it, because that was not a wolf, but a witch who
had charmed my gun. Thus we sat and kept talking.
Suddenly the dogs darted off, and we saw the same wolf
in the ipiddle of the street ; but this time he ran so fast
when he heard our shout that the dogs could not catch
up with him.
After that the old Cossack was fully convinced that it
was not a wolf, but a witch ; but I thought that it was
a mad woK, because I had never seen or heard of such
a thing as a wolf's coming back toward the people, after it
had been driven away.
In any case I poured some powder on Bulka's wound,
64 STORIES FOR CHILDREN
and set it on fire. The powder flashed up and burned out
the sore spot.
I burned out the sore with powder, in order to burn
away the poisonous saliva, if it had not yet entered the
blood. But if the saliva had already entered the blood, I
knew that the blood would carry it through the whole
body, and then it would not be possible to cure him.
WHAT HAPPENED TO BtJLKA IN PYATIGORSK
Fkom the Cossack village I did not travel directly to
Russia, but first to Pyatigorsk, where I stayed two
months. Milton I gave away to a Cossack hunter, and
Biilka I took along with me to Pyatigorsk.
Pyatigorsk [in English, Five-Mountains] is called so
because it is situated on Mount Besh-tau. And besh
means in Tartar " five," and tau " mountain." From
this mountain flows a hot sulphur stream. It is as hot as
boiling water, and over the spot where the water flows
from the mountain there is always a steam as from a
samovar.
The whole place, on which the city stands, is very
cheerful. From the mountain flow the hot springs, and
at the foot of the mountain is the river Podkumok. On
the slopes of the mountain are forests ; all around the city
are fields, and in the distance are seen the mountains of
the Caucasus. On these the snow never melts, and they
are always as white as sugar. One large mountain,
Elbrus, is like a white loaf of sugar ; it can be seen from
everywhere when the weather is clear. People come to
the hot springs to be cured, and over them there are ar-
bours and awnings, and all around them are gardens with
walks. In the morning the music plays, and people
drink the water, or bathe, or stroll about.
The city itself is on the mountain, but at the foot of it
there is a suburb. I lived in that suburb in a small
house. The house stood in a yard, and before the win-
dows was a small garden, and in the garden stood the
landlord's beehives, not in hollow stems, as in Russia, but
65
66 STORIES FOR CHILDREN"
in round, plaited baskets. The bees are there so gentle
that in the morning I used to sit with Biilka in that
garden, amongst the beehives.
Biilka walked about between the hives, and sniffed, and
listened to the bees' buzzing ; he walked so softly among
them that he did not interfere with them, and they did
not bother him.
One morning I returned home from the waters, and sat
down in the garden to drink coffee. Biilka began to
scratch himself behind liis ears, and made a grating noise
with his collar. The noise worried the bees, and so I
took the collar off. A little while later I heard a strange
and terrible noise coming from the city. The dogs
barked, howled, and whimpered, people shouted, and the
noise descended lower from the mountain and came
nearer and nearer to our suburb.
Bulka stopped scratching himself, put his broad head
with its white teeth between his fore legs, stuck out his
tongue as he wished, and lay quietly by my side. When
he heard the noise he seemed to understand what it was.
He pricked his ears, showed his teeth, jumped up, and
began to snarl. The noise came nearer. It sounded as
though all the dogs of the city were howling, wliimpering,
and barking. I went to the gate to see what it was, and
my landlady came out, too. I asked her :
" What is this ? "
She said :
" The prisoners of the jail are coming down to kill the
dogs. The dogs have been breeding so much that the
city authorities have ordered all the dogs in the city to
be killed."
" So they would kill Biilka, too, if they caught him ? "
" No, they are not allowed to kill dogs with collars."
Just as I was speaking, the prisoners were coming up
to our house. In front walked the soldiers, and behind
them four prisoners in chains. Two of the prisoners had
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 67
in their hands long iron hooks, and two had clubs. In
front of our house, one of the prisoners caught a watch-
dog with his hook and pulled it up to the middle of the
street, and another began to strike it with the club.
The little dog whined dreadfully, but the prisoners
shouted and laughed. The prisoner with the hook turned
over the dog, and when he saw that it was dead, he
pulled out the hook and looked around for other dogs.
Just then Biilka rushed headlong at that prisoner, as
though he were a bear. I happened to think that he was
without his collar, so I shouted : " Biilka, back ! " and
told the prisoners not to strike the dog. But the pris-
oner laughed when he saw Biilka, and with his hook
nimbly struck him and caught him by his thigh. Biilka
tried to get away ; but the prisoner pulled him up toward
him and told the other prisoner to strike him. The other
raised his club, and Biilka would have been killed, but he
jerked, and broke the skin at the thigh and, taking his
tail between his legs, flew, with the red sore on his body,
through the gate and into the house, and hid himself
under my bed.
He was saved because the skin had broken in the spot
where the hook was.
BULKA'S AND MILTON'S END
BiJLKA and Milton died at the same time. The old
Cossack did not know how to get along with Milton.
Instead of taking him out only for birds, he went with
him to hunt wild boars. And that same fall a tusky boar
ripped him open. Nobody knew how to sew him up, and
so he died.
Bulka, too, did not live long after the prisoners had
caught him. Soon after his salvation from the prisoners
he began to feel unhappy, and started to lick everything
that he saw. He licked my hands, but not as formerly
when he fawned. He licked for a long time, and pressed
his tongue against me, and then began to snap. E^d-
dently he felt like biting my hand, but did not want to
do so. I did not give him my hand. Then he licked my
boot and the foot of a table, and then he began to snap at
these things. That lasted about two days, and on the
third he disappeared, and no one saw him or heard of
him.
He could not have been stolen or run away from me.
This happened six weeks after the wolf had bitten him.
Evidently the wolf had been mad. Biilka had gone mad,
and so went away. He had what hunters call the rabies.
They say that this madness consists in this, that the mad
animal gets cramps in its throat. It wants to drink and
cannot, because the water makes the cramps worse. And
so it gets beside itself from pain and thirst, and begins to
bite. Evidently Billka was beginning to have these
cramps when he started to lick and then to bite my
hand and the foot of the table.
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 69
I went everywhere in the neighbourhood and asked
about Biilka, but could not find out what had become of
him, or how he had died. If he had been running about
and biting, as mad dogs do, I should have heard of him.
No doubt he ran somewhere into a thicket and there died
by himself.
The hunters say that when an intelligent dog gets the
rabies, he runs to the fields and forests, and there tries to
find the herb which he needs, and rolls in the dew, and
gets cured. Evidently Biilka never got cured. He never
came back.
THE GRAY HAEE
A GRAY hare was living in the winter near the village.
When night came, he pricked one ear and listened ; then
he pricked his second ear, moved his whiskers, sniffed,
and sat down on his hind legs. Then he took a leap or
two over the deep snow, and again sat down on his hind
legs, and looked around him. Nothing could be seen but
snow. The snow lay in waves and glistened like sugar.
Over the hare's head hovered a frost vapour, and through
this vapour could be seen the large, bright stars.
The hare had to cross the highway, in order to come to
a threshing-floor he knew of. On the highway the run-
ners could be heard squeaking, and the horses snorting,
and seats creaking in the sleiglis.
The hare again stopped near the road. Peasants were
walking beside the sleighs, and the collars of their caf-
tans were raised. Their faces were scarcely visible.
Their beards, moustaches, and eyelashes were white.
Steam rose from their mouths and noses. Their horses
were sweaty, and the hoarfrost clung to the sweat.
The horses j(jstled under their arches, and dived in and
out of snow-drifts. The peasants ran behind the horses
and in front of them, and beat them with their whip.'^.
Two peasants walked beside each other, and one of them
told the other how a horse of his had once been stolen.
When the carts passed by, the hare leaped across the
road and softly made for the threshing-floor. A dog saw
the hare from a cart. He began to bark and darted after
the hare. The hare leaped toward the threshing-floor
over the snow-drifts, which held him back ; but the dog
70
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 71
stuck fast in the snow after the tenth leap, and stopped.
Then the hare, too, stopped and sat up on his hind legs,
and then softly went on to the threshing-floor.
On his way he met two other hares on the sowed win-
ter field. They were feeding and playing. The hare
played awhile with his companions, dug away the frosty
snow with them, ate the wintergreen, and went on.
In the village everything was quiet ; the fires were out.
All one could hear was a baby's cry in a hut and the
crackling of the frost in the logs of the cabins. The
hare went to the threshing-floor, and there found some
companions. He played awhile with them on the
cleared floor, ate some oats from the open gi-anary,
climbed on the kiln over the snow-covered roof, and
across the wicker fence started back to his ravine.
The dawn was glimmering in the east ; the stars grew
less, and the frost vapours rose more densely from the
earth. In the near-by village the women got up, and
went to fetch water ; the peasants brought the feed from
the barn ; the cliildren shouted and cried. There were
still more carts going down the road, and the peasants
talked aloud to each other.
The hare leaped across the road, went up to his old
lair, picked out a high place, dug away the snow, lay with
his back in his new lair, dropped his ears on his back, and
fell asleep with open eyes.
GOD SEES THE TEUTH, BUT DOES NOT TELL
AT ONCE
In the city of Vladimir there lived a young merchant,
Aksenov by name. He had two shops and a house.
Aks^nov was a light-complexioned, curly-headed, fine-
looking man and a very jolly fellow and good singer. In
his youth Aksenov had drunk much, and when he was
drunk he used to become riotous, but when he married
he gave up drinking, and that now happened very rarely
with him.
One day in the summer Aksenov went to the Nizhni-
Novgorod fair. As he bade his family good-bye, his wife
said to him :
" Ivan Dmitrievich, do not start to-day ! I have had a
bad dream about you."
Aksenov laughed, and said :
" Are you afraid that I might go on a spree at the
fair ? "
His wife said :
" I do not know what I am afraid of, but I had a bad
dream : I dreamed that you came to town, and when you
took off your cap I saw that your head was all gray."
Aksenov laughed.
" That means that I shall make some profit. If I
strike a good bargain, you will see me bring you some
costly presents."
And he bade his family farewell, and started.
In the middle of his journey he met a merchant whom
he knew, and they stopped together in a hostelry for the
night. They drank their tea together, and lay down to
72
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 73
sleep in two adjoining rooms. Aks^nov did not like
to sleep long ; he awoke in the middle of the night and,
as it was easier to travel when it was cool, wakened his
driver and told him to hitch the horses. Then he went
to the " black " hut, paid his bill, and went away.
When he had gone about forty versts, he again stopped
to feed the horses and to rest in the vestibule of a hos-
telry. At dinner-time he came out on the porch, and
ordered the samovar to be prepared for him. He took
out his guitar and began to play. Suddenly a troyka
with bells drove up to the hostelry, and from the cart
leaped an officer with two soldiers, and he went up to
Aksenov, and asked him who he was and where he came
from.
Aksenov told him everything as it was, and said :
" Would you not like to drink tea with me ? "
But the officer kept asking him questions :
" Where did you stay last night ? Were you alone, or
with a merchant ? Did you see the merchant in. the
morning ? Why did you leave so early in the morning ? "
Aksenov wondered why they asked him about all that ;
he told them everything as it was, and said :
" Why do you ask me this ? I am not a thief, nor a
robber. I am travelling on business of my own, and you
have nothing to ask me about."
Then the officer called the soldiers, and said :
" I am the chief of the rural police, and I ask you this,
feecause the merchant with whom you passed last night
has been found with his throat cut. Show me your
things, and you look through them ! "
They entered the house, took his valise and bag, and
opened them and began to look through them. Suddenly
the chief took a knife out of the bag, and cried out :
" Whose knife is this ? "
Aksenov looked, and saw that they had taken out a
blood-stained knife from his bag, and he was frightened.
l4 STOKIES FOR CHILDREN
" How did the blood get on the knife ? "
Aks^nov wanted to r^nswer, but could not pronounce
a word.
"I — I do not know — I — the knife — is not mine ! '*
Then the chief said :
" In the morning the merchant was found in his bed
with his throat cut. No one but you could have done
it. The house was locked from within, and there was no
one in the house but you. Here is the bloody knife in
your bag, and your face shows your guilt. Tell lue,
how did you kill him, and how much money did you rob
him of ? "
Aks^nov swore that he had not done it ; that he had
not seen the merchant after drinking tea with him ; that
he had with him his own eight thousand ; that the knife
was not his. But his voice faltered, his face was pale,
and he tremljled from fear, as though he were guilty.
The chief called in the soldiers, told them to bind him
and to take him to the cart. When he was rolled into
the cart with his legs tied, he made the sign of the cross
and began to cry. They took away his money and
things, and sent him to jail to the nearest town. They
sent to Vladimir to find out what kind of a man Aks^nov
was, and all the merchants and inhabitants of Vladimir
testified to the fact that Akseuov had drunk and caroused
when he was young, but that he was a good man. Then
they began to try him. He was tried for having killed
the Ryazan merchant and having robbed him of twenty
thousand roubles.
The wife was grieving for her husband and did not
know what to thiuk. Her children were still young, and
one was still at the breast. She took them all and went
with them to the town where her husband was kept in
prison. At first she was not admitted, but later she im-
plored the authorities, and she was taken to her husband.
\VIien she saw him in prison garb and in chains, together
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 75
mih. murderers, she fell to the ground and could not
come to for a long time. Then she placed her children
about her, sat down beside him, and began to tell him
about house matters, and to ask him about everything
which had happened. He told her everything. She said:
" What shaU I do ? "
He said :
" We must petition the Tsar. An innocent man cannot
be allowed to perish."
His wife said that she had already petitioned the Tsar,
but that the petition had not reached him. Aksenov said
nothing, and only lowered his head. Then his wife said :
" You remember the dream I had about your getting
gray. Indeed, you have grown gray from sorrow. If you
had only not started then ! "
And she looked over his hair, and said :
" Ivan, my darling, tell your wife the truth : did yuu
not do it ? "
Aksenov said, " And you, too, suspect me ! " and covered
his face with his hands, and began to weep.
Then a soldier came, and told his wife that she must
leave with her children. And Aksenov for the last time
bade his family farewell.
When his wife had left, Aksenov thought about what
they had been talking of. When he recalled that his
wife had also suspected him and had asked him whether
he had killed the merchant, he said to himself : " Evi-
dently none but God can know the truth, and He alone
must be asked, and from Him alone can I expect mercy."
And from that time on Aksenov no longer handed in peti-
tions and stopped hoping, but only prayed to God.
Aksenov was sentenced to be beaten with the knout,
and to be sent to hard labour. And it was done.
He was beaten with the knout, and later, when the
knout sores healed over, he was driven with other con-
victs to Siberia.
76 STORIES FOR CHILDREN
In Siberia, Aks^nov passed twenty-six years at hard
labour. His hair turned white like snow, and his beard
grew long, narrow, and gray. All his mirth went away.
He stooped, began to walk softly, spoke little, never
laughed, and frequently prayed to God.
In the prison Akst^uov learned to make boots, and with
the money which he earned he bought himself the
" Legends of the Holy Martyrs," and read them while it
was light in the prison ; on holidays he went to the prison
church and read the Epistles, and sang in the choir, — his
voice was still good. The authorities were fond of
Aksenov for his gentleness, and his prison comrades
respected him and called him "grandfather" and "God's
man." When there were any requests to be made of the
authorities, his comrades always sent him to speak for
them, and when the convicts had any disputes between
themselves, they came to Aks(5nov to settle them.
No one wrote Aksenov letters from his home, and he did
not know whether his wife and children were aKve, or not.
Once they brought some new^ prisoners to the prison.
In the evening the old prisoners gathered around the new-
men, and asked them from what town they came, or from
what village, and for what acts they had been sent up.
Aksenov, too, sat down on the bed-boards near the new
prisoners and, low-ering his head, listened to what they
were saying. One of the new prisoners was a tall, sound-
looking old man of about sixty years of age, with a gray,
clipped beard. He was telling them what he had been
sent up for :
" Yes, brothers, I have come here for no crime at aU.
I had unhitched a driver's horse from the sleigh. I was
caught. They said, ' You stole it.' And I said, ' I only
wanted to get home quickly, for I let the horse go. Be-
sides, the driver is a friend of mine. I am telling you the
truth.' — ' No,' they said, ' you have stolen it.' But they
did not know what I had seen stealing, or where I had
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 77
been stealing. There were crimes for which I ought to
have been sent up long ago, but they could not convict
me, and now I am here contrary to the law. ' You are
lying, — you have been in Siberia, but you did not make
a long visit there — ' "
" Where do you come from ? " asked one of the prisoners.
" I am from the city of Vladimir, a burgher of that
place. My name is Makar, and by my father Sem6-
novich."
Aks^nov raised his head, and asked :
" Sem^novich, have you not heard in Vladimir about
the family of Merchant Aks^nov ? Are they alive ? "
" Yes, I have heard about them ! They are rich mer-
chants, even though their father is in Siberia. He is as
much a sinner as I, I think. And you, grandfather, what
are you here for ? "
Aks^nov did not like to talk of his misfortune. He
sighed, and said :
" For my sins have I passed twenty-six years at hard
labour."
Makar Sem^novich said :
" For what sins ? "
Aks^nov said, " No doubt, I deserved it," and did not
wish to tell him any more ; but the other prison people
told the new man how Aks^nov had come to be in
Siberia. They told him how on the road some one had
killed a merchant and had put the knife into his bag, and
he thus was sentenced though he was innocent.
When Makar Sem^novich heard that, he looked at
Aks^nov, clapped his knees with his hands, and said :
" What a marvel ! What a marvel ! But you have grown
old, grandfather ! "
He was asked what he was marvelling at, and where
he had seen Aksenov, but Makar Semenovich made no
reply, and only said :
" It is wonderful, boys, where we were fated to meet I "
78 STORIES FOR CHILDREN
And these words made Aks^nov think that this man
might know something about who had killed the mer-
chant. He said :
" Sem^novich, have you heard before this about that
matter, or have we met before ? "
" Of course I have heard. The earth is full of rumours.
That happened a long time ago : I have forgotten what I
heard," said Makar Sem^novich.
" Maybe you have heard who killed the merchant ? "
asked Akst^nov.
Makar Sem^novich laughed and said :
" I suppose he was killed by the man in whose bag the
knife was found. Even if somebody stuck that kuife into
that bag, he was not caught, so he is no thief. And how
could the knife have been put in ? Was not the bag
under your head ? You would have heard him."
The moment Aks^nov heard these words, he thought
that that was the man who had killed the merchant. He
got up and walked away. All that night Aks^nov could
not fall asleep. He felt sad, and had visions : now he saw
his wife such as she had been when she bade him farewell
for the last time, as he went to the fair. He saw her, as
though she was alive, and he saw her face and eyes, and
heard her speak to him and laugh. Then he saw his
children such as they had been then, — just as little, —
one of them in a fur coat, tlie other at the breast. And
he thought of himself, such as he had been then, — gay
and young ; he recalled how he had been sitting on the
porch of the hostelry, where he was arrested, and had
been playing the guitar, and how light liis heart had been
then. And he recalled the pillory, where he had been
whipped, and the executioner, and the people all around,
and the chains, and the prisoners, and his prison hfe of
the last twenty-six years, and his old age. And such
gloom came over him that he felt like laying hands on
himself.
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 79
" And all that on account of that evil-doer ! " thought
Aks^nov.
And such a rage fell upon him against Makar Sem^no-
vich, that he wanted to have his revenge upon him, even
if he himself were to be ruined by it. He said his prayers
all night long, but could not calm himself. In the day-
time he did not walk over to Makar Sem^novich, and did
not look at him.
Thus two weeks passed. At night Aks^nov could not
sleep, and he felt so sad that he did not know what to do
with himself.
Once, in the night, he walked all over the prison, and
saw dirt falling from underneath one bedplace. He stopped
to see what it was. Suddenly Makar Sem^novich jumped
up from under the bed and looked at Aks^nov with a
frightened face. Aks^nov wanted to pass on, so as not to
see him ; but Makar took him by his arm, and told him
that he had dug a passage way under the wall, and that
he each day carried the dirt away in his boot-legs and
poured it out in the open, whenever they took the con-
victs out to work. He said :
" Keep quiet, old man, — I will take you out, too.
And if you tell, they will whip me, and I will not forgive
you, — I will kill you."
When Aks^nov saw the one who had done him evil, he
trembled in his rage, and pulled away his arm, and said :
" I have no reason to get away from here, and there is
no sense in killing me, — you killed me long ago. And
whether I will tell on you or not depends on what God will
put into my soul."
On the following day, when the convicts were taken
out to work, the soldiers noticed that Makar Semenovich
was pouring out the dirt, and so they began to search in
the prison, and found the hole. The chief came to the
prison and began to ask all who had dug the hole. Every-
body denied it. Those who knew had not seen Makar
80 STORIES FOR CHILDREN
Sem^novich, because they knew that for this act he would
be whipped half-dead. Then the chief turned to Aks^uov.
He knew that Aks^nov was a just man, and said :
" Old man, you are a truthful man, tell me before God
who has done that."
Makar Sem^novich stood as though nothing had hap-
pened and looked at the chief, and did not glance at
Aks^nov. Akst^nov's arms and lips trembled, and he could
not utter a word for t: long time. He thought : " If I
protect him, why should I forgive him, since he has ruined
me ? Let him suffer for my torments ! And if I tell on
him, they will indeed whip him to death. And suppose
that T have a wrong suspicion against him. Will that
make it easier for me ? "
The chief said once more :
" Well, old man, speak, tell the truth ! Who has been
digging it?"
Aks^nov looked at Makar Semenovich, and said :
" I cannot tell, your Honour. God orders me not to
tell. And I will not tell. Do with me as you please, — ■
you have the power."
No matter how much the chief tried, Aks^nov would
not say anything more. And so they did not find out
who had done the digging.
On the following night, as Aks^nov lay down on the
bed-boards and was just falling asleep, he heard somebody
come up to him and sit down at his feet. He looked in
the darkness and recognized Makar. Aks^nov said :
" What more do you want of me ? What are you
doing here ? "
Makar Semenovich was silent. Aks^nov raised him
self, and said :
" What do you want ? Go away, or I will call the
soldier."
Mak^r bent down close to Aks^nov, and said to him in
a whisper :
STORIES FOR CHILDREN . 81
" Ivan Dmitrievich, forgive me ! "
Aks^nov said :
" For what shall I forgive you ? "
" It was I who killed the merchant and put the knife
into your bag. I wanted to kill you, too, but they made
a noise in the yard, so I put the knife into your bag and
climbed through the window."
Aks^nov was silent and did not know what to say.
Makar Sem^novich shpped down from the bed, made a
low obeisance, and said :
" Ivan Dmitrievich, forgive me, forgive me for God's
sake ! I will declare that it was I who killed the mer-
chant, — you will be forgiven. You will return home."
Aks^nov said :
" It is easy for you to speak so, but see how I have
suffered ! Where shall I go now ? My wife has died,
my children have forgotten me. I have no place to go
to — "
Makar Sem^novich did not get up from the floor. He
struck his head against the earth, and said :
" Ivan Dmitrievich, forgive me ! When they whipped
me with tlie knout I felt better than now that I am look-
ing at you. You pitied me, and did not tell on me.
Forgive me, for Christ's sake ! Forgive me, the accursed
evil-doer!" And he burst out into tears.
When Aks^nov heard Makar Sem^novich crying, hb
began to weep himself, and said :
" God will forgive you. Maybe I am a hundred times
worse than you ! "
And suddenly a load fell off from his soul. And he nc
longer pined for his home, and did not wish to leave the
prison, but only thought of his last hour.
Makar Sem^novich did not listen to Aksenov, but de-
clared his guilt. When the decision came for Aksenov
to leave, — he was dead.
HUNTING WOESE THAN SLAVEEY
We were hunting bears. My companion had a chance
to shoot at a bear : he wounded him, but only in a soft
spot. A little blood was left on the snow, but the bear
got away.
We met in the forest and began to discuss what to do :
whether to go and find that bear, or to wait two or three
days until the bear should he down again.
We asked the peasant bear drivers whether we could
now surround the bear. An old bear driver said :
" No, we must give the bear a chance to calm himself.
In about five days it will be possible to surround him,
but if we go after him now he will only be frightened
and will not lie down."
But a young bear driver disputed with the old man,
and said that he could surround him now.
" Over this snow," he said, " the bear cannot get away
far, — he is fat. He will he down to-day again. And if
he does not, I wiU overtake him on snow-shoes."
My companion, too, did not want to surround the bear
now, and advised waiting.
But I said :
" What is the use of discussing the matter ? Do as
you please, but I will go with Demyan along the track.
If we overtake him, so much is gained ; if not, — I have
nothing else to do to-day anyway, and it is not yet late."
And so we did.
My companions went to the sleigh, and back to the
village, but Demyan and I took bread with us, and
remained in the woods.
82
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 83
When all had left us, Demyan and I examined our
guns, tucked our fur coats over our belts, and followed
the track.
It was fine weather, chilly and calm. But walking on
snow-shoes was a hard matter : the snow was deep and
powdery.
The snow had not settled in the forest, and, besides,
fresh snow had fallen on the day before, so that the
snow-shoes sunk half a foot in the snow, and in places
even deeper.
The bear track could be seen a distance away. We
could see the way the bear had walked, for in spots
he had fallen in the snow to his belly and had swept the
snow aside. At first we walked in plain sight of the track,
through a forest of large trees ; then, when the track
went into a small pine wood, Demyan stopped.
" We must now give up the track," he said. " He will, no
doubt, lie down here. He has been sitting on his
haunches, — you can see it by the snow. Let us go
away from the track, and make a circle around him.
But we must walk softly and make no noise, not even
cough, or we shall scare him."
We went away from the track, to the left. We walked
about five hundred steps and there we again saw the
track before us. We again followed the track, and this
took us to the road. We stopped on the road and began
to look around, to see in what direction the bear had
gone. Here and there on the road we could see the
bear's paws with all the toes printed on the snow, while
in others we could see the tracks of a peasant's bast slices.
He had, evidently, gone to the village.
We walked along the road. Demyan said to me :
" We need not watch the road ; somewhere he will
turn off the road, to the right or to the left, — we shall
see in the snow. Somewhere he will turn off, — he will
not go to the village."
84 STOEIES FOR CHILDREN
We walked thus about a mile along the road ; suddenly
we saw the track turn of!' from the road. We looked at
it, and see the wonder ! It was a bear's track, but lead-
ing not from the road to the woods, but from the woods
to the road : the toes were turned to the road. I said ;
" That is another bear."
Demyan looked at it, and thought awhile.
" No," he said, " that is the same bear, only he has
begun to cheat. He left the road backwards."
We followed the track, and so it was. The bear had
evidently walked about ten steps backwards from the
road, until he got beyond a fir-tree, and then he had
turned and gone on straight ahead. Demyan stopped,
and said :
" Now we shall certainly fall in with him. He has no
place but this swamp to lie down in. Let us surround
him."
We started to surround him, going through the dense
pine forest. I was getting tired, and it was now much
harder to travel. Now I would strike against a juniper-
bush, and get caught in it ; or a small pine-tree would
get under my feet ; or the snow-shoes would twist, as I
was not used to them ; or I would strike a stump or a
block under the snow. I was beginning to be worn out.
I took off my fur coat, and the sweat was just pouring
down from me. But Demyan sailed along as in a boat.
It looked as though the snow-shoes walked under him of
their own accord. He neither caught in anything, nor
did his shoes turn on him.
And he even threw my fur coat over his shoulders,
and kept urging me on.
We made about three versts in a circle, and walked
past the swamp. Demyan suddenly stopped in front
of me, and waved his hand. I walked over to him.
Demyan bent down, and pointed with his hand, and
whispered to me :
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 85
" Do you see, a magpie is chattering on a windfall : the
bird is scenting the bear from a distance. It is he."
We walked to one side, made another verst, and again
hit the old trail. Thus we had made a circle around the
bear, and he was inside of it. We stopped. I took off
my hat and loosened my wraps : I felt as hot as in a
bath, and was as wet as a mouse. Demyan, too, was all
red, and he wiped his face with his sleeve.
" Well," he said, " we have done our work, sir, so we
may take a rest."
The evening glow could be seen through the forest.
We sat down on the snow-shoes to rest ourselves. We
took the bread and salt out of the bags ; first I ate a little
snow, and then the bread. The bread tasted to me better
than any I had eaten in all my life. We sat awhile ; it
began to grow dark. I asked Demyan how far it was to
the village.
" About twelve versts. We shall reach it in the night ;
but now we must rest. Put on your fur coat, sir, or you
will catch a cold."
Demyan broke off some pine branches, knocked down
the snow, made a bed, and we lay down beside each
other, with our arms under our heads. I do not remem-
ber how I fell asleep. I awoke about two hours later.
Something crashed.
I had been sleeping so soundly that I forgot where I
was. I looked around me : what marvel was that ?
Where was I ? Above me were some white chambers,
and white posts, and on everything glistened white tinsel.
I looked up : there was a white, checkered cloth, and
between the checks was a black vault in which burned
fires of all colours. I looked around, and I recalled that
we were in the forest, and that the snow-covered trees
had appeared to me as chambers, and that the fires were
nothing but the stars that flickered between the branches.
In the night a hoarfrost had fallen, and there was hoar-
86 STORIES FOR CHILDREN
frost on the branches, and on my fur coat, and Demyan
was all covered with hoarfrost, and hoarfrost fell from
above. I awoke Demyan. We got up on our snow-shoes
and started. The forest was quiet. All that could be
heard was the sound we made as we shd on our snow-
shoes over the soft snow, or when a tree would crackle
from the frost, and a hollow sound would pass through
the whole woods. Only once did something living stir
close to us and run away again. I thought it was the
bear. We walked over to the place from where the noise
had come, and we saw hare tracks. The young aspens
were nibbled down. The hares had been feeding on them.
We came out to the road, tied the snow-shoes behind us,
and walked down the road. It was easy to walk. The
snow-shoes rattled and rumbled over the beaten road ; the
snow creaked under our boots ; the cold hoarfrost stuck to
our faces like down. And the stars seemed to run toward
us along the branches : they would flash, and go out
again, — just as though the sky were walking round and
round.
My companion was asleep, — I awoke him. We told
him how we had made a circle around the bear, and told
the landlord to collect the drivers for the morning. We
ate our supper and lay down to sleep.
i was so tired that I could have slept until dinner, but
my companion woke me. I jumped up and saw that my
companion was all dressed and busy with his gun.
" Where is Demyan ? "
" He has been in the forest for quite awhile. He has
investigated the circle, and has been back to take the
drivers out."
I washed myself, put on my clothes, and loaded my
guns. We seated ourselves in the sleigh, and started.
There was a severe frost, the air was calm, and the sun
could not be seen : there was a mist above, and the hoar-
frost was settling.
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 87
We travelled about three versts by the road, and reached
the forest. We saw a blue smoke in a hollow, and peas-
ants, men and women, were there with clubs.
We climbed out of the sleigh and went up to the people.
The peasants were sitting and baking potatoes, and joking
with the women.
Demyan was with them. The people got up, and
Demyan took them away to place them in our last night's
circuit. The men and women stretched themselves out
in single file, — there were thirty of them and they could
be seen only from the belt up, — and went into the
woods ; then my companion and I followed their tracks.
Though they had made a path, it was hard to walk ;
still, we could not fall, for it was like walking between
two walls.
Thus we walked for half a verst. I looked up, and
there was Demyan running to us from the other side on
snow-shoes, and waving his hand for us to come to him.
We went up to him, and he showed us where to stand.
I took up my position and looked around.
To the left of me was a tall pine forest. I could see
far through it, and beyond the trees I saw the black spot
of a peasant driver. Opposite me was a young piue
growth, as tall as a man's stature. In this pine growth
the branches were hanging down and stuck together from
the snow. The path through the middle of the pine grove
was covered with snow. This path was leading tow^ard
me. To the right of me was a dense pine forest, and
beyond the pine grove there was a clearing. And on
this clearing I saw Demyan place my companion.
I examined my two guns and cocked them, and began
to think where to take up a stand. Behind me, about
three steps from me, there was a pine-tree. " I will stand
by that pine, and will lean the other gun against it." I
made my way to that pine, walking knee-deep in snow.
I tramped down a space of about four feet each way, and
88 STORIES FOR CHILDREN
there took my stand. One gun I took into my hands, and
the other, with hammers raised, I placed against the tree.
I unsheathed my dagger and put it back in the scabbard,
to be sure that in case of need it would come out easily.
I had hardly fixed myself, when Demyan shouted from
the woods :
" Start it now, start it ! "
And as Demyan shouted this, the peasants in the cir-
cuit cried, each with a different tone of voice : " Come
now ! Oo-oo-oo ! " and the women cried, in their thin
voices : " Ai ! Eekh ! "
The bear was in the circle. Demyan was driving him.
In the circuit the people shouted, and only my companion
and I stood still, did not speak or move, and waited for
the bear. I stood, and looked, and listened, and my heart
went pitapat. I was clutching my gun and trembling.
Now, now he will jump out, I thought, and I will aim
and shoot, and he will fall — Suddenly I heard to the
left something tumbling through the snow, only it was
far away. I looked into the tall pine forest : about fifty
steps from me, behind the trees, stood something large and
black. I aimed and waited. I thought it might come
nearer. I saw it move its ears and turn around. Now I
could see the whole of him from the side. It was a huge
beast. I aimed hastily. Bang ! I heard the bullet strike
the tree. Through the smoke I saw the bear make back
for the cover and disappear in the forest. " Well," I
thought, " my business is spoiled : he will not run up to
me again ; either my companion will have a chance to
shoot at him, or he will go through between the peasants,
but never again toward me." I reloaded the gun, and
stood and listened. The peasants were shouting on all
sides, but on the right, not far from my companion, I
heard a woman yell, " Here he is ! Here he is ! Here he
is ! This way ! This way ! Oi, oi, oi ! Ai, ai, ai ! "
There was the bear, in full sight. I was no longer ex-
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 89
pecting the bear to come toward me, and so looked to the
right toward my companion. I saw Demyan running
without the snow-shoes along the path, with a stick in his
hand, and going up to my companion, sitting down near
him, and pointing with the stick at something, as though
he were aiming. I saw my companion raise his gun and
aim at where Demyan was pointing. Bang ! he fired
it off.
" Well," I thought, " he has killed him." But I saw
that my companion was not running toward the bear.
" Evidently he missed him, or did not strike him right.
He will get away," I thought, " but he will not come
toward me." •
What was that ? Suddenly I heard something in front
of me : somebody was flying like a whirlwind, and scat-
tering the snow near by, and panting. I looked ahead of
me, but he was making headlong toward me along the path
through the dense pine growth. I could see that he was
beside himself with fear. When he was within five steps
of me I could see the whole of him : his chest was black
and his head was enormous, and of a reddish colour. He
was flying straight toward me, and scattering the snow in
all directions. I could see by the bear's eyes that he did
not see me and in his fright was rushing headlong. He
was making straight for the pine where I was standing.
I raised my gun, and shot, but he came still nearer. I
saw that I had not hit him : the bullet was carried past
him. He heard nothing, plunged onward, and did not
see me. I bent down the gun, almost rested it against
his head. Bang ! This time I hit him, but did not
kill him.
He raised his head, dropped his ears, showed his teeth,
— and straight toward me. I grasped the other gun ; but
before I had it in my hand, he was already on me, knocked
me down, and flew over me. " Well," I thought, " that is
good, he will not touch me." I was just getting up, when
90 STORIES FOR CHILDREN
I felt something pressing against me and holding me
down. In his onrush he ran past me, but he turned
around and rushed against me with his whole breast.
I felt something heavy upon me, something warm over
my face, and I felt him taking my face into his jaws. My
nose was already in his mouth, and I felt hot, and smelled
his blood. He pressed my shoulders with his paws, and
I could not stir. All I could do was to pull my head out
of his jaws and press it against my breast, and I turned
my nose and eyes away. But he was trying to get
at my eyes and nose. I felt him strike the teeth of his
upper jaw into my forehead, right below the hair, and
the lower jaw into the cheek-bones below the eyes, and he
began to crush me. It was as though my head were cut
with knives. I jerked and pulled out my head, but he
chawed and chawed and snapped at me hke a dog. I
would turn my head away, and he would catch it again.
" Well," I thought, " my end has come." Suddenly I felt
lighter. I looked up, and he was gone : he had jumped
away from me, and was running now.
When my companion and Demyan saw that the bear
had knocked me into the snow, they dashed for me. My
companion wanted to get there as fast as possible, but lost
his way ; instead of running on the trodden path, he ran
straight ahead, and fell down. While he was trying to
get out of the snow, the bear was gnawing at me. Dem-
yan ran up to me along the path, without a gun, just with
the stick which he had in his hands, and he shouted,
" He is eating up the gentleman ! He is eating up the
gentleman ! " And he kept running and shouting, " Oh,
you wretched beast ! What are you doing ? Stop ! Stop ! "
The bear listened to him, stopped, and ran away.
When I got up, there was much blood on the snow, just
as though a sheep had been killed, and over my eyes the
flesh hung in rags. While the wound was fresh I felt no
pain.
STOKIES FOR CHILDREN 91
My companion ran up to me, and the peasants gathered
around me. They looked at my wounds, and washed
them with snow, I had entirely forgotten about the
wounds, and only asked, "Where is the bear? Where
has he gone ? "
Suddenly we heard, " Here he is ! Here he is ! " We
saw the bear running once more against us. We grasped
our guns, but before we fired he ran past us. The bear
was mad : he wanted to bite me again, but when he saw
so many people he became frightened. We saw by the
track that the bear was bleeding from the head. We
wanted to foUow him up, but my head hurt me, and so
we drove to town to see a doctor.
The doctor sewed up my wounds with silk, and they
began to heal.
A month later we went out again to hunt that bear ;
but I did not get the chance to kill him. The bear would
not leave the cover, and kept walking around and around
and roaring terribly. Demyan killed him. My shot had
crushed his lower jaw and knocked out a tooth.
This bear was very large, and he had beautiful black
fur. I had the skin stuffed, and it is lying now in my
room. The wounds on my head have healed, so that one
can scarcely see where they were.
A PKISONEE OF THE CAUCASUS
A CERTAIN gentleman was serving as an officer in the
Caucasus. His name was Zhilin.
One day he received a letter from home. His old
mother wrote to him :
" I have grown old, and I should like to see my darling
son before my death. Come to bid me farewell and bury
me, and then, with God's aid, return to the service. I
have also found a bride for you : she is bright and pretty
and has property. If you take a liking to her, you can
marry her, and stay here for good."
Zhilin reflected : " Indeed, my old mother has grown
feeble ; perhaps I shall never see her again. I must go ;
and if the bride is a good girl, I may marry her."
He went to the colonel, got a furlough, bade his com-
panions good-bye, treated his soldiers to four buckets of
vodka, and got himself ready to go.
At that time there was a war in the Caucasus. Neither
in the daytime, nor at night, was it safe to travel on the
roads. The moment a Russian walked or drove away
from a fortress, the Tartars either killed him or took him
as a prisoner to the mountains. It was a rule that a
guard of soldiers should go twice a week from fortress to
fortress. In front and in the rear walked soldiers, and
between them were other people.
It was in the summer. The carts gathered at daybreak
outside the fortress, and the soldiers of the convoy came
92
STOKIES FOR CHILDREN 93
out, and all started. Zhilin rode on horseback, and his
cart with his things went with the caravan.
They had to travel twenty-five versts. The caravan
proceeded slowly ; now the soldiers stopped, and now a
wheel came off a cart, or a horse stopped, and all had to
stand still and wait.
The sun had already passed midday, but the caravan
had made only half the distance. It was dusty and hot ;
the sun just roasted them, and there was no shelter : it
was a barren plain, with neither tree nor bush along the
road.
Zhilin rode out ahead. He stopped and waited for the
caravan to catch up with him. He heard them blow
the signal-horn behind : they had stopped again.
Zhilin thought : " Why can't I ride on, without the
soldiers ? I have a good horse under me, and if I run
against Tartars, I will gallop away. Or had I better not
go?"
He stopped to think it over. There rode up to him
another officer, Kostylin, with a gun, and said :
" Let us ride by ourselves, ZhiKn ! I cannot stand it
any longer : I am hungry, and it is so hot. My shirt
is dripping wet."
Kostylin was a heavy, stout man, with a red face, and
the perspiration was just rolling down his face. Zhilin
thought awhile and said :
" Is your gun loaded ? "
" It is."
" Well, then, we will go, but on one condition, that we
do not separate."
And so they rode ahead on the highway. They rode
through the steppe, and talked, and looked about them.
They could see a long way off.
When the steppe came to an end, the road entered a
cleft between two mountains. So Zhilin said :
" We ought to ride up the mountain to take a look ;
94 STOEIES FOR CHILDREN
for here they may leap out on us from the mountain
without our seeing them,"
But Kostylin said :
" What is the use of looking ? Let us ride on ! "
Zhilin paid no attention to him.
" No," he said, " you wait here below, and I will take
a look up there."
And he turned his horse to the left, up-hill. The
horse under Zhilin was a thoroughbred (he had paid a
hundred roubles for it when it was a colt, and had liim-
self trained it), and it carried him up the slope as though
on wings. The moment he reached the summit, he saw
before him a number of Tartars on horseback, about
eighty fathoms away. There were about thirty of them.
When he saw them, he began to turn back ; and the
Tartars saw him, and galloped toward him, and on the
ride took their guns out of the covers. Zhilin urged his
horse down-hill as fast as its legs would carry him, and
he shouted to Kostylin :
" Take out the gun ! " and he himself thought about
his horse : " Darling, take me away from here i Don't
stumble ! If you do, I am lost. If I get to the gun, they
shall not catch me."
But Kostylin, instead of waiting, galloped at full speed
toward the fortress, the moment he saw the Tartars. He
urged the horse on with the whip, now on one side, and
now on the other. One could see through the dust only
the horse switching her tail.
Zliilin saw that things were bad. The gun had disap-
peared, and he could do nothing with a sword. He turned
his horse back to the soldiers, thinking that he might get
away. He saw six men crossing his path. He had a
good horse under him, but theirs were better still, and
they crossed his path. He began to check liis horse : he
wanted to turn around ; but the horse was running at
full speed and could not be stopped, and he flew straight
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 95
toward them. He saw a red-bearded Tartar on a gray
horse, who was coming near to him. He howled and
showed his teeth, and his gun was against his shoulder.
" Well," thought Zhilin, " I know you devils. When
you take one alive, you put him in a hole and beat him
with a whip. I will not fall into your hands alive — "
Though ZhiKn was not tall, he was brave. He drew
his sword, turned his horse straight against the Tartar,
and thought :
" Either I will knock his horse off its feet, or I will
strike the Tartar with my sword."
Zhilin got within a horse's length from him, when they
shot at him from behind and hit the horse. The horse
dropped on the ground while going at full speed, and fell
on Zhiliu's leg.
He wanted to get up, but two stinking Tartars were
already astride of him. He tugged and knocked down
the two Tartars, but three more jumped down from their
horses and began to strike him with the butts of their
guns. Things grew dim before his eyes, and he tottered.
The Tartars took hold of him, took from their saddles
some reserve straps, twisted his arms behind his back, tied
them with a Tartar knot, and fastened him to the saddle.
They knocked down his hat, pulled off his boots, rummaged
all over him, and took away his money and his watch, and
tore all his clothes.
ZhiKn looked back at his horse. The dear animal was
lying just as it had fallen down, and only twitched its
legs and did not reach the ground with them ; in its head
there was a hole, and from it the black blood gushed and
wet the dust for an eU. around.
A Tartar went up to the horse, to pull off the saddle.
The horse was struggling still, and so he took out his
dagger and cut its throat. A whistling sound came from
the throat, and the horse twitched, and was dead.
The Tartars took off the saddle and the trappings.
96 STORIES FOR CHILDREN
The red-bearded Tartar mounted his horse, and the others
seated Zhiliu behind him. To prevent his falling off, they
attached him by a strap to the Tartar's belt, and they rode
off to the nuciutains.
Zhilin was sitting back of the Tartar, and shaking and
striking with his face against the stinking Tartar's back.
All he saw before hiai was the mighty back, and the mus-
cular neck, and the livid, shaved nape of his head under-
neath his cap. Zhilin's head was bruised, and the blood
was clotted under his eyes. And he could not straighten
himself on the saddle, nor wipe off his blood. His arms
were twisted so badly that his shoulder bones pained
him.
They rode for a long time from one mountain to another,
and forded a river, and came out on a path, where they
rode through a ravine.
Zhilin wa^nted to take note of the road on which they
were travelling, but his eyes were smeared with blood, and
he could not turn around.
It was getting dark. They crossed another stream and
rode up a rocky mountain. There was an odour of smoke,
and the dogs began to bark. They had come to a native
village. The Tartars got down from their horses ; the
Tartar children gathered around Zhilin, and screamed, and
rejoiced, and aimed stones at him.
The Tartar drove the boys away, took Zhilin down
from his horse, and called a labourer. There came a
Nogay, with large cheek-bones ; he wore nothing but a
shirt. The shirt was torn and left his breast bare. The
Tartar gave him a command. The labourer brought the
stocks, — two oak planks drawn through iron rings, and
one of these rings with a clasp and lock.
They untied Zhilin's hands, put the stocks on him, and
led him into a shed : the}^ pushed him in and locked the
door. Zhilin fell on the manure pile. He felt around in
the darkness for a soft spot, and lay down there.
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 97
II.
Zhilln lay awake nearly the whole night. The nights
were short. He saw through a chink that it was getting
light. He got up, made the chink larger, and looked
out.
Through the chink Zhilin saw the road : it went down-
hill; on the right was a Tartar cabin, and near it two
trees. A black dog lay on the threshold, and a goat
strutted about with her kids, which were jerking their
little tails. He saw a young Tartar woman coming up
the hill ; she wore a loose coloured shirt and pantaloons
and boots, and her head was covered with a caftan, and
on her head there was a large tin pitcher with water. She
walked along, jerking her back, and bending over, and by
the hand she led a young shaven Tartar boy in nothing
but his shirt. The Tartar woman went into the cabin
with the water, and out came the Tartar of the day be-
fore, with the red beard, wearing a silk half-coat, a silver
dagger on a strap, and shoes on his bare feet. On his
head there was a tall, black sheepskin hat, tilted back-
wards. He came out, and he stretched himself and
smoothed his red beard. He stood awhile, gave the
labourer an order, and went away.
Then two boys rode by, taking the horses to water.
The muzzles of the horses were wet. Then there ran out
some other shaven boys, in nothing but their shirts, with
no trousers ; they gathered in a crowd, walked over to the
shed, picked up a stick, and began to poke it through
the chink. When Zhilin shouted at the children, they
screamed and started to run back, so that their bare knees
glistened in the sun.
Zhilin wanted to drink, — his throat was all dried up.
He thought : " If they would only come to see me ! " He
heard them open the shed. The red Tartar came in, and
with him another, black-looking fellow, of smaller stature.
98 STORIES FOR CFILDREN
His eyes were black and bright, his cheeks ruddy, his
small beard clipped ; his face looked jolly, and he kept
laughing all the time. This swarthy fellow was dressed
even better : he had on a silk half-coat, of a blue colour,
embroidered with galloons. In his belt there was a large
silver dagger ; his slippers were of red morocco and also
embroidered with silver. Over his thin slippers he wore'
heavier shoes. His cap was tall, of white astrakhau.
The red Tartar came in. He said something, as though
scolding, and stopped. He leaned against the door-post,
dangled his dagger, and like a wolf looked furtively at
Zliiliu. But the swarthy fellow — swift, lively, walking
around as though on springs — went up straight to
Zhilin, squatted down, showed, his teeth, slapped him on
the shoulder, began to rattle off something in his lan-
guage, winked with his eyes, clicked his tongue, and kept
repeating : " Goot Uruss ! Goot Uruss ! "
Zhilin did not understand a thing and said :
" Give me to drink, give me water to drink ! "
The swarthy fellow laughed. " Goot Uruss ! " he kept
rattling off.
Zhilin showed with his lips and hands that he wanted
something to drink.
The swarthy fellow understood what he wanted,
laughed out, looked through the door, and called some
one : " Diana ! "
In came a thin, slender little girl, of about thirteen
years of age, who resembled the swarthy man very much.
Evidently she was his daughter. Her eyes, too, were
black and bright, and her face was pretty. She wore a
long blue shirt, with broad sleeves and without a belt.
The skirt, the breast, and the sleeves were trimmed with
red. On her legs were pantaloons, and on her feet
slippers, with liigh-heeled shoes over them ; on her neck
she wore a necklace of Eussian half-roubles. Her head
was uncovered ; her braid was black, with a ribbon
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 99
through it, and from the ribbon hung small plates and a
Russian rouble.
Her father gave her a command. She ran away, and
came back and brought a small tin pitcher. She gave
him the water, and herself squatted down, bending up in
such a way that her shoulders were below her knees.
She sat there, and opened her eyes, and looked at Zhilin
drinking, as though he were some animal.
Zhilin handed her back the pitcher. She jumped away
like a wild goat. Even her father laughed. He sent her
somewhere else. She took the pitcher and ran away ;
she brought some fresh bread on a round board, and again
sat down, bent over, riveted her eyes on him, and kept
looking.
The Tartars went away and locked the door.
After awhile the Nogay came to Zhilin, and said :
" Ai-da, master, ai-da ! "
He did not know any Eussian, either. All Zhilin
could make out was that he should follow him.
Zhilin started with the stocks, and he limped and could
not walk, so much did the stocks pull his legs aside.
Zhilin went out with the Nogay. He saw a Tartar
village of about ten houses, and a church of theirs, with a
small tower. Near one house stood three horses, all
saddled. Boys were holding the reins. From the house
sprang the swarthy Tartar, and he waved his hand for
Zhilin to come up. He laughed all the while, and talked
in his language, and disappeared through the door.
Zhilin entered the house. It was a good living-
room, — the walls were plastered smooth with clay.
Along the front wall lay coloured cushions, and at the
sides hung costly rugs ; on the rugs were guns, pistols,
swords, — all in silver. By one wall there was a small
stove, on a level with the floor. The floor was of dirt and
as clean as a threshing-floor, and the whole front corner
was carpeted with felt ; and over the felt lay rugs, and on
100 STORIES FOR CHILDREN
the rugs cushions. On these rugs sat the Tartars, in
their slippers without their outer shoes : there were the
swarthy fellow, the red Tartar, and three guests. At
their backs were feather cushions, and before them, on
a round board, were millet cakes and melted butter in a
bowl, and Tartar beer, " buza," in a small pitcher. They
were eating with their hands, and their hands were all
greasy from the butter.
The swarthy man jumped up and ordered Zhilin to be
placed to one side, not on a rug, but on the bare floor ; he
went back to his rug, and treated his guests to millet
cakes and buza. The labourer placed Zhilin where he
had been ordered, himself took off his outer shoes, put
them at the door, where stood the other shoes, and sat
down on the felt next to the masters. He looked at
them as they ate, and wiped off his spittle.
The Tartars ate the cakes. Then there came a Tartar
woman, in a shirt like the one the girl had on, and
in pantaloons, and with a kerchief over her head. She
carried away the butter and the cakes, and brought a
small wash-basin of a pretty shape, and a pitcher with
a narrow neck. The Tartars washed their hands, then
folded them, knelt down, blew in every direction, and said
their prayers. Then one of the Tartar guests turned to
Zhilin, and began to speak in Russian :
" You," he said, " were taken by Kazi-Muhammed," and
he pointed to the red Tartar, " and he gave you to Abdul-
Murat." He pointed to the swarthy man. " Abdul-Mu-
rat is now your master."
Zhilin kept silence. Then Abdul-Murat began to speak.
He pointed to Zhilin, and laughed, and kept repeating :
•' Soldier Uruss ! Goot Uruss ! "
The interpreter said :
" He wants you to write a letter home that they may
send a ransom for you. When they send it, you will be
set free."
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 101
Zhilin thought awhile and said :
" How much ransom does he want ? "
The Tartars talked together; then the interpreter
said :
" Three thousand in silver."
" No," said Zhilin, " I cannot pay that."
Abdul jumped up, began to wave his hands and to talk
to Zhilin, thinking that he would understand him. The
interpreter translated. He said :
" How much will you give ? "
Zhilin thought awhile, and said :
" Five hundred roubles."
Then the Tartars began to talk a great deal, all at
the same time. Abdul shouted at the red Tartar.
He was so excited that the spittle just spirted from his
mouth.
But the red Tartar only scowled and choked his tongue.
They grew silent, and the interpreter said :
" The master is not satisfied with five hundred roubles.
He has himself paid two hundred for you. Kazi-Mu-
hammed owed him a debt. He took you for that debt.
Three thousand roubles, nothing less will do. And if
you do not write, you will be put in a hole and beaten
with a whip."
" Oh," thought Zhilin, " it will not do to show that I
am frightened ; that will only be worse." He leaped to
his feet, and said :
" Tell that dog that if he is going to frighten me, 1
will not give him a penny, and I will refuse to write
I have never been afraid of you dogs, and I neve)
will be."
The interpreter translated, and all began to speak at
the same time.
They babbled for a long time ; then the swarthy Tartar
jumped up and walked over to Zhilin :
" Uruss," he said, " dzhigit, dzhigit Uruss ! "
102 STOKIES FOR CHILDREN
Dzhigit in their language means a " brave." And he
laughed ; he said something to the interpreter, and the
interpreter said :
" Give one thousand roubles ! "
Zhilin stuck to what he had said :
" I will not give more than five hundred. And if you
kill me, you will get nothing."
The Tartars talked awhile and sent the labourer some-
where, and themselves kept looking now at Zhilin and
now at the door. The labourer came, and behind him
walked a fat man ; he was barefoot and tattered ; he, too,
had on the stocks.
Zhilin just shouted, for he recognized Kostylin. He,
too, had been caught. They were placed beside each
other. They began to talk to each other, and the Tartars
kept silence and looked at them, Zhilin told what had
happened to him ; and Kostylin told him that his horse
had stopped and his gun had missed fire, and that the
same Abdul had overtaken and captured him.
Abdul jumped up, and pointed to Kostylin, and said
something. The interpreter translated it, and said that
both of them belonged to the same master, and that the
one who would first furnish the money would be the first
to be released.
" Now you," he said, " are a cross fellow, but your
friend is meek ; he has written a letter home, and they
will send five thousand roubles. He wiU be fed well,
and will not be insulted."
So Zhilin said :
" My friend may do as he pleases ; maybe he is rich,
but I am not. As I have said, so will it be. If you
want to, kill me, — you will not gain by it, — but more
than five hundred will I not give."
They were silent for awhile. Suddenly Abdul jumped
up, fetched a small box, took out a pen, a piece of paper,
and some ink, put it all before Zhilin, slapped him on the
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 103
shoulder, and motioned for him to write. He agreed to
the five hundred.
" Wait awhile," Zhilin said to the interpreter. " Tell
him that he has to feed us well, and give us the proper
clothes and shoes, and keep us together, — it will be jol-
lier for us, — and take off the stocks." He looked at the
master and laughed. The master himself laughed. He
listened to the interpreter, and said :
" I will give you the best of clothes, — a Circassian
mantle and boots, — you will be fit to marry. We will
feed you like princes. And if you want to stay together,
you may live in the shed. But the stocks cannot be
taken off, for you will run away. For the night we will
take them off."
He ran up to Zhilin, and tapped him on the shoulder :
" You goot, me goot ! "
Zhilin wrote the letter, but he did not address it right.
He thought he would run away.
Zhilin and Kostylin were taken back to the shed.
They brought for them maize straw, water in a pitcher,
bread, two old mantles, and worn soldier boots. They
had evidently been pulled off dead soldiers. For the
night the stocks were taken off, and they were locked in
the barn.
III.
Zhilin and his companion lived thus for a whole month.
Their master kept laughing.
" You, Ivan, goot, me, Abdul, goot ! "
But he did not feed them well. All he gave them to
eat was unsalted millet bread, baked like pones, or en-
tirely unbaked dough.
Kostylin wrote home a second letter. He was waiting
for the money to come, and felt lonesome. He sat for
days at a time in the shed counting the days before the
letter would come, or he slept. But Zhilin knew that
104 STORIES FOR CHILDREN
his letter would not reach any one, and so he did not write
another.
" Where," he thought, " is my mother to get so much
money ? As it is, she lived mainly by what I sent her.
If she should collect five hundred roubles, she would be
ruined in the end. If God grants it, I will manage to
get away from here."
And he watched and thought of how to get away.
He walked through the village and whistled, or he sat
down somewhere to work with his hands, either making a
doll from clay, or weaving a fence from twigs. Zhilin
was a great hand at all kinds of such work.
One day he made a doll, with a nose, and hands, and
legs, in a Tartar shirt, and put the doll on the roof. The
Tartar maidens were going for water. His master's
daughter, Dina, saw the doll, and she called up the Tar-
tar girls. They put down their pitchers, and looked, and
laughed. Zhilin took down the doll and gave it to them.
They laughed, and did not dare take it. He left the doll,
and went back to the shed to see what they would do.
Dina ran up, looked around, grasped the doll, and ran
away with it.
In the morning, at daybreak, he saw Dina coming out
with the doll in front of the house. The doll was all
dressed up in red rags, and she was rocking the doll and
singing to it in her fashion. The old woman came out.
She scolded her, took the doll away from her and broke
it, and sent Dina to work.
Zhilin made another doll, a better one than before,
and he gave it to Dina. One day Dina brought him a
small pitcher. She put it down, herself sat down and
looked at him, and laughed, as she pointed to the pitcher.
" What is she so happy about ? " thought Zhilin.
He took the pitcher and began to drink. He thought
it was water, but, behold, it was milk. He drank the
milk, and said :
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 105
« It is good ! "
Dina was very happy.
" Good, Ivan, good ! " and she jumped up, clapped her
hands, took away the pitcher, and ran off.
From that time she brought him milk every day on the
sly. The Tartars make cheese-cakes from goat milk, and
dry them on the roofs, — and so she brought him those
cakes also. One day the master killed a sheep, so she
brought him a piece of mutton in her sleeve. She would
throw it down and run away.
One day there was a severe storm, and for an hour the
rain fell as though from a pail. All the streams became
turbid. Where there' was a ford, the water was now
eight feet deep, and stones were borne down. Torrents
were running everywhere, and there was a roar in the
mountains. When the storm was over, streams were
coming down the village in every direction. Zhilin asked
his master to let him have a penknife, and with it he cut
out a small axle and little boards, and made a wheel, and
to each end of the wheel he attached a doll.
The girls brought him pieces of material, and he dressed
the dolls : one a man, the other a woman. He fixed them
firmly, and placed the wheel over a brook. The wheel
began to turn, and the dolls to jump.
The whole village gathered around it ; boys, girls,
women, and men came, and they clicked with theii-
tongues :
" Ai, Uruss ! Ai, Ivan ! "
Abdul had a Eussian watch, but it was broken. He
called Zhilin, showed it to him, and clicked his tongue.
Zhilin said :
" Let me have it ! I wiU fix it ! "
He took it to pieces v/ith a penknife ; then he put it
together, and gave it back to him. The watch was run-
ning now.
The master was delighted. He brought his old half-
106 STORIES FOR CHILDREN
coat, — it was all in rags, — - and made him a present of
it. What could he do but take it ? He thought it would
be good enough to cover himself with in the night.
After that the rumour went abroad that Zhilin was a
great master. They began to come to him from distant
villages : one, to have him fix a gun-lock or a pistol,
another, to set a clock a-goiug. His master brought him
tools, — pinchers, gimlets, and tiles. •
One day a Tartar became sick : they sent to Zhilin, and
said, " Go and cure him ! " Zhilin did not know anything
about medicine. He went, took a look at him, and
thought, " Maybe he will get well by himself." He went
to the barn, took some water and sand, and mixed it. In
the presence of the Tartars he said a charm over the
water, and gave it to him to drink. Luckily for him,
the Tartar got well.
Zhilin began to understand their language. Some of the
Tartars got used to him. When they needed him, they
called, " Ivan, Ivan ! " but others looked at him awry, as
at an animal.
The red Tartar did not like Zhilin. Whenever he saw
him, lie frowned and turned away, or called him names.
There was also an old man ; he did not live in the village,
but came from farther down the mountain. Zhilin saw
him only when he came to the mosque, to pray to God.
He was a small man ; his cap was wrapped with a white
towel. His beard and moustache were clipped, and they
were as white as down ; his face was wrinkled and as red
as a brick. His nose was hooked, like a hawk's beak, and
his eyes were gray and mean-looking ; of teeth he had
only two tusks. He used to walk in his turban, leaning
on a crutch, and looking around him like a wolf. When-
ever he saw Zhilin, he grunted and turned away.
One day Zhilin went down-hill, to see where the old
man was living. He walked down the road, and saw a
little garden, with a stone fence, and inside the fence were
STORIES FOE CHILDEEN 107
cherry and apricot trees, and stood a hut with a flat roof.
He came closer to it, and he saw beehives woven from
straw, and bees were swarming around and buzzing. The
old man was kneeling, and doing something to a hive.
Zhilin got up higher, to get a good look, and made a noise
with his stocks. The old man looked around and shrieked ;
he pulled the pistol out from his belt and fired at Zhilin.
He had just time to hide behind a rock.
The old man went to the master to complain about
Zhilin. The master called up Zhilin, and laughed, and
asked :
" Why did you go to the old man ? "
" I have not done him any harm," he said. " I just
wanted to see how he lives."
The master told the old man that. But the old man
was angry, and hissed, and rattled something off; he
showed his teeth and waved his hand threateningly at
Zhilin.
Zhilin did not understand it all ; but he understood
that the old man was telling his master to kill all the
Eussians, and not to keep them in the village. The old
man went away.
Zhilin asked his master what kind of a man that old
Tartar was. The master said :
" He is a big man ! He used to be the first dzhigit : he
killed a lot of Eussians, and he was rich. He had three
wives and eight sons. All of them lived in the same vil-
lage. The Eussians came, destroyed the village, and
killed seven of his sons. One son was left alive, and he
surrendered himself to the Eussians. The old man went
and surrendered himself, too, to the Eussians. He stayed
with them three months, found his son there, and killed
him, and then he ran away. Since then he has stopped
fighting. He has been to Mecca, to pray to God, and that
is why he wears the turban. He who has been to Mecca
is called a Hadji and puts on a turban. He has no use
108 STORIES FOR CHILDREN
for you fellows. He tells me to kiU you ; but I cannot
kill you, — I have paid for you ; and then, Ivan, I like
you. I not only have no intention of killing you, but I
would not let you go back, if I had not given my word to
you." He laughed as he said that, and added in Russian :
" You, Ivan, good, me, Abdul, good ! "
IV.
Zhilin lived thus for a month. In the daytime he
walked around the village and made things with his hands,
and when night came, and all was quiet in the village, he
began to dig in the shed. It was difficult to dig on ac-
count of the rocks, but he sawed the stones with the file,
and made a hole through which he meant to crawl later.
" First I must find out what direction to go in," he
thought ; " but the Tartars will not tell me anything."
So he chose a time when his master was away ; he
went after dinner back of the village, up-hill, where
he could see the place. But when his master went away,
he told his little boy to keep an eye on Zhilin and to
follow him everywhere. So the boy ran after Zhilin, and
said :
" Don't go ! Father said that you should not go there.
I will call the people ! "
Zhilin began to persuade him.
" I do not want to go far," he said ; " I just want to
walk up the mountain : I want to find an herb with which
to cure you people. Come with me ; I cannot run away
with the stocks. To-morrow I will make you a bow and
arrows."
He persuaded the boy, and they went together. As
he looked up the mountain, it looked near, but with the
stocks it was hard to walk ; he walked and walked, and
climbed the mountain with difficulty. Zhilin sat down
and began to look at the place. To the south of the shed
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 109
there was a ravine, and there a herd of horses was grazing,
and in a hollow could be seen another village. At that
village began a steeper mountain, and beyond that moun-
tain there was another mountain. Between the mountains
could be seen a forest, and beyond it again the moun-
tains, rising higher and higher. Highest of all, there were
white mountains, capped with snow, just like sugar loaves.
And one snow mountain stood with its cap above all the
rest. To the east and the west there were just such
mountains; here and there smoke rose from villages in
the clefts.
" Well," he thought, " that is all their side."
He began to look to the Eussian side. At his feet was
a brook and his village, and all around were little gardens.
At the brook women were sitting, — they looked as small
as dolls, — and washing the linen. Beyond the village
and below it there was a mountain, and beyond that, two
other mountains, covered with forests ; between the two
mountains could be seen an even spot, and on that plain,
far, far away, it looked as though smoke were settling.
Zhilin recalled where the sun used to rise and set when
he was at home in the fortress. He looked down there,
— sure enough, that was the valley where the Eussian
fortress ought to be. There, then, between those two
mountains, he had to run.
The sun was beginning to go down. The snow-capped
mountains changed from white to violet ; it grew dark in
the black mountains ; vapour arose from the clefts, and
the valley, where our fortress no doubt was, gleamed in the
sunset as though on fire. Zhilin began to look sharply, ■ —
something was quivering in the valley, like smoke rising
from chimneys. He was sure now that it must be the
Eussian fortress.
It grew late ; he could hear the mullah call ; the flock
was being driven, and the cows lowed. The boy said to
him, " Come ! " but Zhilin did not feel like leaving.
110 STORIES FOR CHILDREN
They returned home. " Well," thought Zhilin, " now I
know the place, and I must run." He wanted to run that
same night. The nights were dark, — the moon was on
the wane. Unfortunately the Tartars returned toward
evening. At other times they returned driving cattle be-
fore them, and then they were jolly. But this time they
did not drive home anything, but brought back a dead
Tartar, a red-haired companion of theirs. They came
back angry, and all gathered to bury him. Zhilin, too,
went out to see. They wrapped the dead man in linen,
without putting him in a coffin, and carried him under
the plane-trees beyond the village, and placed him on the
grass. The mullah came, and the old men gathered around
him, their caps wrapped with towels, and took off their
shoes and seated themselves in a row on their heels, in
front of the dead man.
At their head was the mullah, and then three old men
in turbans, sitting in a row, and behind them other Tartars.
They sat, and bent their heads, and kept silence. They
were silent for quite awhile. Then the mullah raised
his head, and said :
" Allah ! " (That means " God.") He said that one
word, and again they lowered their heads and kept silence
for a long time ; they sat without stirring. Again the
mullah raised his head :
" Allah ! " and all repeated, " Allah ! " and again they
were silent. The dead man lay on the grass, and did
not stir, and they sat about him like the dead. Not one
of them stirred. One could hear only the leaves on the
plane-tree rustling in the breeze. Then the mullah said
a prayer, and all got up, lifted the dead body, and carried
it away. They took it to a grave, — not a simple grave,
but dug under like a cave. They took the dead man under
his arms and by his legs, bent him over, let him down
softly, pushed him under in a sitting posture, and fixed
his arms on his body.
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 111
A Nogay dragged up a lot of green reeds ; they bedded
the grave with it, then quickly tilled it with dirt, levelled
it up, and put a stone up straight at the head of it. They
tramped down the earth, and again sat down in a row
near the grave. They were silent for a long time.
" Allah, Allah, Allah ! " They sighed and got up.
A red-haired Tartar distributed money to the old men ;
then he got up, took a whip, struck himself three times on
his forehead, and went home.
Next morning Zhilin saw the red Tartar take a mare out
of the village, and three Tartars followed him. They went
outside the village ; then the red-haired Tartar took off
his coat, rolled up his sleeves, — he had immense arms, —
and took out his dagger and whetted it on a steel. The
Tartars jerked up the mare's head, and the red-haired man
walked over to her, cut her throat, threw her down, and
began to flay her, — to rip the skin open with his fists.
Then came women and girls, and they began to wash the
inside and the entrails. Then they chopped up the mare
and dragged the flesh to the house. And the whole vil-
lage gathered at the house of the red-haired Tartar to cel-
ebrate the dead man's wake.
For three days did they eat the horse-flesh, drink buza,
and remember the dead man. On the fourth day Zhilin
saw them get ready to go somewhere for a dinner. They
brought horses, dressed themselves up, and went away, —
about ten men, and the red Tartar with them ; Abdul was
the only one who was left at home. The moon was just
beginning to increase, and the nights were still dark.
" Well," thought Zhilin, " to-night I must run," and he
told Kostylin so. But Kostylin was timid.
" How can we run ? We do not know the road."
« I know it."
" But we cannot reach it in the night."
" If we do not, we shall stay for the night in the woods.
I have a lot of cakes with me. You certainly do not mean
112 STORIES FOR CHILDREN
to stay. It would be all right if they sent the money ;
but suppose they cannot get together so much. The Tar-
tars are mean now, because the Russians have killed one
of theirs. I understand they want to kill us now."
Kostylin thought awhile :
" Well, let us go ! "
V.
Zhilin crept into the hole and dug it wider, so that
Kostylin could get through ; and then they sat stiU and
waited for everything to quiet down in the village.
When all grew quiet, Zhilin crawled through the hole
and got out. He whispered to Kostylin to crawl out.
Kostylin started to come out, but he caught a stone with
his foot, and it made a noise. Now their master had a
dappled watch-dog, and he was dreadfully mean ; his name
was Ulyashin. Zhilin had been feeding him before. When
Ulyashin heard the voice, he began to bark and rushed
forward, and with him other dogs. Zhilin gave a low
whistle and threw a piece of cake to the dog, and the
dog recognized him and wagged his tail and stopped
barking.
The master heard it, and he called out from the hut
" Hait, bait, Ulyashin ! "
But Zhilin was scratching Ulyashin behind his ears ; so
the dog was silent and rubbed against his legs and wagged
his tail.
They sat awhile around the corner. All was silent ;
nothing could be heard but the sheep coughing in the hut
corner, and the water rippling down the pebbles. It was
dark ; the stars stood high in the heaven ; the young moon
shone red above the mountain, and its horns were turned
upward. In the clefts the mist looked as white as milk.
Zhilin got up and said to his companion :
" Now, my friend, let us .start ! "
They started. They had made but a few steps, when
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 113
they heard the mullah sing out on the roof : " Allah be-
smillah ! Ilrakhman ! " That meant that the people were
going to the mosque. They sat down again, hiding behind
a wall. They sat for a long time, waiting for the people
to pass by. Again everything was quiet.
" Well, with God's aid ! " They made the sign of the
cross, and started. They crossed the yard and went down-
hill to the brook ; they crossed the brook and walked
down the ravine. The mist was dense and low on the
ground, and overhead the stars were, oh, so visible. Zhilin
saw by the stars in what direction they had to go. In
the mist it felt fresh, and it was easy to walk, only the
boots were awkward, they had worn down so much. Zhilin
took off his boots and threw them away, and marched on
barefoot. He leaped from stone to stone, and kept watch-
ing the stars. Kostylin began to fall behind.
" Walk slower," he said. " The accursed boots, — they
have chafed my feet."
" Take them off ! You will find it easier without
them."
Kostylin walked barefoot after that ; but it was only
worse : he cut his feet on the rocks, and kept falling be-
hind. Zhilin said to him :
" If you bruise your feet, they wUl heal up ; but if they
catch you, they will kill you, — so it will be worse."
Kostylin said nothing, but he groaned as he walked.
They walked for a long time through a ravine. Suddenly
they heard dogs barking. Zhilin stopped and looked
around ; he groped with his hands and climbed a hill.
" Oh," he said, " we have made a mistake, — we have
borne too much to the right. Here is a village, — I saw
it from the mountain ; we must go back and to the left,
and up the mountain. There must be a forest here."
But Kostylin said :
" Wait at least awhile ! Let me rest : my feet are ali
blood-stained."
114 STOEIES FOR CHILDREN
" Never mind, friend, tbey will heal up ! Jump more
lightly, — like this ! "
And Zhilin ran back, and to the left, up the mountain
into the forest. Kostylin kept falling behind and groan-
ing. Zhilin hushed him, and walked on.
They got up the mountain, and there, indeed, was a
forest. They went into the forest, and tore all the clothes
they had against the thorns. They struck a path in the
forest, and followed it.
" Stop ! " Hoofs were heard tramping on the path.
They stopped to listen. It was the sound of a horse's
hoofs. They started, and again it began to thud. They
stopped, and it, too, stopped. Zhilin crawled up to it, and
saw something standing in the light on the road. It was
not exactly a horse, and again it was like a horse with
something strange above it, and certainly not a man. He
heard it snort. " What in the world is it ? " Zhilin gave
a Hght whistle, and it bolted away from the path, so that
he could hear it crash through the woods : the branches
broke off, as though a storm went through them.
Kostylin fell down in fright. But Zhilin laughed and
said :
" That is a stag. Do you hear him break the branches
with his horns ? We are afraid of him, and he is afraid
of us."
They walked on. The Pleiades were beginning to set-
tle, — it was not far from morning. They did not know
whether they were going right, or not. Zhilin thought
that that was the path over which they had taken him,
and that he was about ten versts from his own people ;
still there were no certain signs, and, besides, in the night
nothing could be made out. They came out on a clearing.
Kostylin sat down, and said :
" Do as you please, but I will not go any farther ! My
feet refuse to move."
Zhilin begged him to go on.
STORIES FOR CHILDREN" 115
•■* No," he said, " I cannot walk on."
Zliilin got angry, spit out in disgust, and scolded him.
" Then I will go by myself, — good-bye ! "
Kostyliu got up and walked on. They walked about
four versts. The mist grew denser in the forest, and noth-
ing could be seen in front of them, and the stars were
quite dim.
Suddenly they heard a horse tramping in front of them.
They could hear the horse catch with its hoofs in the
stones. Zhilin lay down on his belly, and put his ear to
the ground to listen.
" So it is, a rider is coming this way ! "
They ran off the road, sat down in the bushes, and
. waited. Zhilin crept up to the road, and saw a Tartar on
horseback, driving a cow before him, and mumbling some-
thing to himself. The Tartar passed by them. Zhilin
went back to Kostylin.
" Well, with God's help, he is gone. Get up, and let
us go ! "
Kostylin tried to get up, but fell down.
" I cannot, upon my word, I cannot, I have no
strength."
The heavy, puffed-up man was in a perspiration, and as
the cold mist in the forest went through him and his feet
were all torn, he went all to pieces. Zhilin tried to get him
up, but Kostylin cried :
" Oh, it hurts ! "
Zhilin was frightened.
" Don't shout so ! You know that the Tartar is not far
off, — he will hear you." But he thought : " He is, indeed,
weak, so what shall I do with him ? It will not do to
abandon my companion."
" Well," he said, " get up, get on my back, and I will
carry you, if you cannot walk."
He took Kostylin on his back, put his hands on Kos
tylin's legs, walked out on the road, and walked on.
116 STORIES FOR CHILDREN
" Only be sure," he said, " and do not choke me with
your hands, for Christ's sake. Hold on to my shoulders ! "
It was hard for Zhilin : his feet, too, were blood-stained,
and he was worn out. He kept bending down, straighten-
ing up KostyKu, and throwing him up, so that he might
sit higher, and dragged him along the road.
Evidently the Tartar had heard Kostylin's shout. ZhiKn
heard some one riding from behind and calling in his lan-
guage. Zhilin made for the brush. The Tartar pulled
out his gun and fired ; he screeched in his fashion, and
rode back along the road.
" Well," said Zhilin, " we are lost, my friend ! That
dog will collect the Tartars and they will start after us.
If we cannot make another three versts, we are lost."
But he thought about Kostylin : " The devil has tempted
me to take this log along. If I had been alone, I should
have escaped long ago."
Kostylin said :
" Go yourself ! Why should you perish for my sake ? "
" No, I will not go, — it will not do to leave a com-
rade."
He took him once more on his shoulders, and held on
to him. Thus they walked another verst. The woods
extended everywhere, and no end was to be seen. The
mist was beginning to lift, and rose in the air like little
clouds, and the stars could not be seen. Zhilin was worn
out.
They came to a little spring by the road ; it was lined
with stones. Zhilin stopped and put down Kostylin.
" Let me rest," he said, " and get a drink ! We will eat
our cakes. It cannot be far now."
He had just got down to drink, when he heard the
tramping of horses behind them. Again they rushed to
the right, into the bushes, down an incline, and lay down.
They could hear Tartar voices. The Tartars stopped
at the very spot where they had left the road. They
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 117
talked awhile, then they made a sound, as though sicking
dogs. Something crashed through the bushes, and a
strange dog made straight for them. It stopped and
began to bark.
Then the Tartars came down, — they, too, were stran-
gers. They took them, bound them, put them on their
horses, and carried them off'.
They travelled about three versts, when they were met
by Abdul, the prisoners' master, and two more Tartars.
They talked with each other, and the prisoners were put
on the other horses and taken back to the village.
Abdul no longer laughed, and did not speak one word
with them.
They were brought to the village at daybreak, and were
placed in the street. The children ran up and beat them
with stones and sticks, and screamed.
The Tartars gathered in a circle, and the old man from
down-hill came, too. They talked together. Zhilin saw
that they were sitting in judgment on them, discussing
what to do with them. Some said that they ought to be
sent farther into the mountains, but the old man said that
they should be killed. Abdul disputed with them and
said :
" I have paid money for them, and I will get a ransom
for them."
But the old man said :
" They will not pay us anything ; they will only give
us trouble. It is a sin to feed Eussians. Kill them, and
that will be the end of it."
They all went their way. The master walked over to
Zhilin and said :
" If the ransom does not come in two weeks, I will
beat you to death. And if you try to run again I will kill
you like a dog. Write a letter, and write it well ! "
Paper was brought to them, and they wrote the letters.
The stocks were put on them, and they were taken back
118 STORIES FOE CHILDREN
of the mosque. There was a ditch there, about twelve
feet in depth, — and into this ditch they were let down.
VI.
They now led a very hard life. The stocks were not
taken off, and they were not let out into the wide world.
Unbaked dough was thrown down to them, as to dogs, and
water was let down to them in a pitcher. There was a
stench in the ditch, and it was close and damp. Kostylin
grew very ill, and swelled, and had a breaking out on his
whole body ; and he kept groaning all the time, or he
slept. Zhilin was discouraged : he saw that the situation
was desperate. He did not know how to get out of it.
He began to dig, but there was no place to throw the
dirt in ; the master saw it, and threatened to kill him.
One day he was squatting in the ditch, and thinking of
the free world, and he felt pretty bad. Suddenly a cake
fell down on his knees, and a second, and some cherries.
He looked up, — it was Dina. She looked at him,
laughed, and ran away. Zhilin thought : " ]\Iaybe Dina
will help me."
He cleaned up a place in the ditch, scraped up some
clay, and began to make dolls. He made men, horses,
and dogs. He thought : " When Dina comes I will throw
them to her."
But on the next day Dina did not come. Zhilin heard
the tramping of horses ; somebody rode by, and the Tar-
tars gathered at the mosque ; they quarrelled and shouted,
and talked about the Russians. And he heard the old
man's voice. He could not make out exactly what it was,
but he guessed that the Russians had come close to the vil-
lage, and that the Tartars were afraid that they might
come to the village, and they did not know what to do
with the prisoners.
They talked awhile and went away. Suddenly he heard
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 119
something rustle above him. He looked up ; Diua was
squatting down, and her knees towered above her head ;
she leaned over, and her necklace hung down and dangled
over the ditch. Her little eyes ghstened like stars. She
took two cheese-cakes out of her sleeve and threw them
down to him. Zhihn said to her :
" Why have you not been here for so long ? I have
made you some toys. Here they are ! "
He began to throw one after the other to her, but she
shook her head, and did not look at them.
"I do not want them," she said. She sat awhile in
silence, and said : " Ivan, they want to kill you ! " She
pointed with her hand to her neck.
" Who wants to kill me ? "
" My father, — the old men tell him to. I am sorry
for you."
So Zhilin said :
" If you pity me, bring me a long stick ! "
She shook her head, to say that she could not. He
folded his hands, and began to beg her :
" Dina, if you please ! Dear Dina, bring it to me ! "
" I cannot," she said. " The people are at home, and
they would see me."
And she went away.
Zhilin was sitting there in the evening, and thinking
what would happen. He kept looking up. The stars
could be seen, and the moon was not yet up. The mullah
called, and all grew quiet. Zhilin was beginning to fall
asleep ; he thought the girl would be afraid.
Suddenly some clay fell on his head. He looked up
and saw a long pole coming down at the end of the ditch.
It tumbled, and descended, and came down into the
ditch. Zhilin was happy ; he took hold of it and let it
down, — it was a stout pole. He had seen it before on his
master's roof.
He looked up : the stars were shining high in the
120 STORIES FOR CHILDREN
heavens, and over the very ditch Dina's eyes glistened in
the darkness. She bent her face over the edge of the
ditch, and whispered : " Ivan, Ivan ! " and waved her
hands in front of her face, as much as to say : " Speak
softly ! "
" What is it ? " asked Zhihn.
" They are all gone. There are two only at the house."
So Zhilin said :
" Kostylin, come, let us try for the last time ; I will
give you a lift."
Kostyliu would not even listen.
" No," he said, " I shall never get away from here.
Where should I go, since I have no strength to turn
around ? "
" If so, good-bye ! Do not think ill of me ! *'
He kissed Kostyhn.
He took hold of the pole, told Dina to hold on to it,
and climbed up. Two or three times he slipped down :
the stocks were in his way. Kostylin held him up, and
he managed to get on. Dina pulled him by the shirt
with all her might, and laughed.
Zhilin took the pole, and said :
" Take it to where you found it, for if they see it, they
will beat you."
She dragged the pole away, and Zhilin went down-hill.
He crawled down an incline, took a sharp stone, and tried
to break the lock of the stocks. But the lock was a
strong one, and he could not break it. He heard some
one running down the hill, leaping lightly. He thought
it was Dina. Dina ran up, took a stone, and said :
" Let me do it ! "
She knelt down and tried to break it ; but her arms
were as thin as rods, — there was no strength in them.
She threw away the stone, and began to weep. Zhilin
again worked on the lock, and Dina squatted near him,
and held on to his shoulder. Zhilin looked around ; on
STOKIES FOR CHILDREN 121
the left, beyond the mountain, he saw a red glow, — the
moon was rising.
"Well," he thought, "before the moon is up I must
cross the ravine and get to the forest."
He got up, threw away the stone, and, though in the
stocks, started to go.
" Good-bye, Dina dear ! I will remember you all my
life."
Dina took hold of him ; she groped all over him, trying
to find a place to put the cakes. He took them from her.
" Thank you," he said, " you are a clever girl. Who
will make dolls for you without me ? " And he patted
her on the head.
Dina began to cry. She covered her eyes with her
hands, and ran up-hill like a kid. In the darkness he
could hear the ornaments in the braid striking against
her shoulders.
Zhilin made the sign of the cross, took the lock of his
fetters in his hand, that it might not clank, and started
down the road, dragging his feet along, and looking at the
glow, where the moon was rising. He recognized the
road. By the straight road it would be about eight
versts. If he only could get to the woods before the
moon was entirely out ! He crossed a brook, — and it
was getting hght beyond the mountain. He walked
through the ravine ; he walked and looked, but the moon
was not yet to be seen. It was getting brighter, and on
one side of the ravine everything could be seen more and
more clearly. The shadow was creeping down the moun-
tain, up toward him.
Zhilin walked and kept in the shade. He hurried on,
but the moon was coming out faster still ; the tops of the
trees on the right side were now in the hght. As he
came up to the woods, the moon came out entirely from
behind the mountains, and it grew bright and white as in
the daytime. All the leaves could be seen on the trees.
122 STORIES FOR CHILDREN
The mountains were calm and bright ; it was as though
everything were dead. All that could be heard was the
rippling of a brook below.
He reached the forest, — he came across no men.
Zhilin found a dark spot in the woods and sat down to
rest himself.
He rested, and ate a cake. He found a stone, and
began once more to break down the lock. He bruised
his hands, but did not break the lock. He got up, and
walked on. He marched about a verst, but his strength
gave out, — his feet hurt him so. He would make ten
steps and then stop. " What is to be done ? " he thought.
" I will drag myself along until my strength gives out
entirely. If I sit down, I shall not be able to get up. I
cannot reach the fortress, so, when day breaks, I will lie
down in the forest for the day, and at night I will move
on."
He walked the whole night. He came across two Tar-
tars only, but he heard them from afar, and so hid behind
a tree.
The moon was beginning to pale, and Zhilin had not
yet reached the edge of the forest.
" Well," he thought, " I will take another thirty steps,
after which I will turn into the forest, where I will sit
down."
He took the thirty steps, and there he saw that the
forest came to an end. He went to the edge of it, and
there it was quite light. Before him lay the steppe and
the fortress, as in the palm of the hand, and to the left,
close by at the foot of the mountain, fires were burning
and going out, and the smoke was spreading, and men
were near the camp-fires.
He took a sharp look at them : the guns were glisten-
ing, — those were Cossacks and soldiers.
Zhilin was happy. He collected his last strength and
walked down-hill. And he thought : " God forfend that
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 123
a Tartar rider should see me in the open ! Though it is
not far off, I should not get away."
No sooner had he thought so, when, behold, on a
mound stood three Tartars, not more than 150 fathoms
away. They saw him, and darted toward him. His
heart just sank in him. He waved his arms and shouted
as loud as he could :
" Brothers ! Help, brothers ! "
Our men heard him, and away flew the mounted Cos-
sacks. They started toward him, to cut off the Tartars.
The Cossacks had far to go, but the Tartars were near.
And Zhilin collected his last strength, took the stocks in
his hand, and ran toward the Cossacks. He was beside
himself, and he made the sign of the cross, and shouted :
" Brothers ! Brothers ! Brothers ! "
There were about fifteen Cossacks.
The Tartars were frightened, and they stopped before
they reached him. And Zhilin ran up to the Cossacks.
The Cossacks surrounded Mm, and asked :
" Who are you ? Where do you come from ? "
But Zhilin was beside himself, and he wept, and mut-
tered :
" Brothers ! Brothers ! "
The soldiers ran out, and surrounded Zhilin : one gave
him bread, another gruel, a third vodka ; one covered him
with a cloak, another broke off the lock.
The officers heard of it, and took him to the fortress.
The soldiers were happy, and his companions came to see
him.
Zhilin told them what had happened, and said :
" So I have been home, and got married ! No, evi-
dently that is not my fate."
And he remained in the service in the Caucasus. Not
till a month later was Kostylin ransomed for five thou-
sand. He was brought back more dead than alive.
ERMAK
In the reign of Ivan Vasilevich the Terrible there were
the rich merchants, the Strogan6vs, and they lived in
Perm, on the river Kama. They heard that along the
river Kama, in a circle of 140 versts, there was good
land : the soil had not been ploughed for centuries, the
forests had not been cut down for centuries. In the
forests were many wild animals, and along the river fish
lakes, and no one was living on that land, but only Tar-
tars passed through it.
The Stroganovs wrote a letter to the Tsar :
" Give us this land, and we will ourselves build towns
there and gather people and settle them there, and will
not allow the Tartars to pass through it."
The Tsar agreed to it, and gave them the land. The
Stroganovs sent out clerks to gather people. And there
came to them a large number of roving people. Who-
ever came received from the Stroganovs land, forest, and
cattle, and no tenant pay was collected. All they had to
do was to live and, in case of need, to go out in mass to
fight the Tartars. Thus the land was settled by the
Russian people.
About twenty years passed. The Stroganovs grew richer
yet, and that land, 140 versts around, was not enough for
them. They wanted to have more land still. About
one hundred versts from them were high mountains, the
Ural Mountains, and beyond them, they had heard, there
was good land, and to that land there was no end. This
land was ruled by a small Siberian prince, Kuchum by
name. In former days Kuchum had sworn allegiance to
124
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 125
the Russian Tsar, but later he began to rebel, and he
threatened to destroy Stroganov's towns.
So the Stroganovs wrote to the Tsar :
" You have given us land, and we have conquered it
and turned it over to you ; now the thievish Tsarling
Kuchum is rebelhng against you, and wants to take that
land away and ruin us. Command us to take possession
of the land beyond the Ural Mountains ; we will conquer
Kuchum, and will bring all his land under your rule."
The Tsar assented, and wrote back :
" If you have sufficient force, take the land away from
Kuchum. Only do not entice many people away from
Russia."
When the Stroganovs got that letter from the Tsar,
they sent out clerks to collect more people. And they
ordered them to persuade mostly the Cossacks from the
Volga and the Don to come. At that time many Cos-
sacks were roving along the Volga and the Don. They
used to gather in bands of two, three, or six hundred men,
and to select an ataman, and to row down in barges, to
capture ships and rob them, and for the winter they
stayed in little towns on the shore.
The clerks arrived at the Volga, and there they asked
who the famous Cossacks of that region were. They
were told :
"There are many Cossacks. It is impossible to live
for them. There is Mishka Cherkashenin, and Sary-
Azman ; but there is no fiercer one than Ermak Timo-
f^ich, the ataman. He has a thousand men, and not only
the merchants and the people are afraid of him, but even
the Tsarian army does not dare to cope with him."
And the clerks went to Ermak the ataman, and began
to persuade him to go to the Stroganovs. Ermak received
the clerks, listened to their speeches, and promised to
come with his people about the time of the Assumption
of the Blessed Virgin.
126 STORIES FOR CHILDREN
Near the holiday of the Assumption there came to the
Stroganovs six hundred Cossacks, with their ataman,
Ermak Timof^ich. At first Stroganov sent them against
the neighbouring Tartars. The Cossacks annihilated them.
Then, when nothing was doing, the Cossacks roved in the
neighbourhood and robbed.
So Stroganov sent for Ermak, and said :
" I will not keep you any longer, if you are going to be
so wanton."
But Ermak said :
" I do not like it myself, but I cannot control my
people, they are spoiled. Give us work to do ! "
So Stroganov said :
" Go beyond the Ural and fight Kuchum, and take
possession of his land. The Tsar will reward you for it."
And he showed the Tsar's letter to Ermak. Ermak
rejoiced, and collected his men, and said :
" You are shaming me before my master, — you are
robbing without reason. If you do not stop, he will drive
you away, and where will you go then ? At the Volga
there is a large Tsarian army ; we shall be caught, and
then we shall suffer for our old misdeeds. But if you
feel lonesome, here is work for you."
And he showed them the Tsar's letter, in which it said
that Stroganov had been permitted to conquer land beyond
the Ural. The Cossacks had a consultation, and agreed
to go. Ermak went to Stroganov, and they began to
deliberate how they had best go.
They discussed how many barges they needed, how
much grain, cattle, guns, powder, lead, how many captive
Tartar interpreters, and how many foreigners as masters
of gunnery.
Stroganov thought:
" Though it may cost me much, I must give them
everything or else they will stay here and will ruin
me."
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 127
Strogandv agreed to everything, gathered what was
needed, and fitted out Ermak and the Cossacks.
On the 1st of September the Cossacks rowed with
Ermak up the river Chusovaya on thirty-two barges, with
twelve men in each. For four days they rowed up the
river, and then they turned into Ser^bryanaya Eiver.
Beyond that point it was impossible to navigate. They
asked the guides, and learned that from there they had
to cross the mountains and walk overland about two
hundred versts, and then the rivers would begin again.
The Cossacks stopped, built a town, and unloaded all their
equipment ; they abandoned the boats, made carts, put
everything upon them, and started overland, across the
mountains. All those places were covered with forest,
and nobody was living there. They marched for about
ten days, and struck the river Zharovnya. Here they
stopped again, and made themselves boats. They loaded
them, and rowed down the river. They rowed five days,
and then came more cheerful places, — meadows, forests,
lakes. There was a plenty of fish and of animals, and
animals that had not been scared by hunters. They
rowed another day, and sailed into the river Tura. Along
the Tiira they came on Tartar people and towns.
Ermak sent some Cossacks to take a look at a town,
to see what it was like, and whether there was any con-
siderable force in it. Twenty Cossacks went there, and
they frightened all the Tartars, and seized the whole
town, and captured all the cattle. Some of the Tartars
they killed, and others they brought back alive.
Ermak asked the Tartars through his interpreters what
kind of people they were, and under whose rule they were
living. The Tartars said that they were in the Siberian
kingdom, and that their king was Kuchum.
Ermak let the Tartars go, but three of the more intelli-
gent he took with him, to show him the road.
They rowed on. The farther they rowed, the larger
128 STORIES FOR CHILDREN
did the river grow ; and the farther they went, the bet-
ter did the places become.
They met more and more people ; only they were not
strong men. And all the towns that were near the river
the Cossacks conquered.
In one town they captured a large number of Tartars
and one old man who was held in respect. They asked
him what kind of a man he was. He said :
"I am Tauzik, a servant of my king, Kuchum, who
has made me a commander in this town."
Ermak asked Tauzik about his king ; how far his city
of Sibir was ; whether Kuchum had a large force ; whether
he had much wealth. Tauzik told him everything. He
said:
" Kuchum is the first king in the world. His city of
Sibir is the largest city in the world. In that city," he
said, "there are as many people and as many cattle as
there are stars in the heaven. There is no counting his
force, and not aU the kings of the world can conquer
him."
But Ermak said :
"We Eussians have come here to conquer your king
and to take his city, and to put it into the hands of the
Eussian Tsar. We have a large force. Those who have
come with me are only the advance-guard; those that
are rowing down behind us in barges are numberless, and
all of them have guns. Our guns pierce trees, not like
your bows and arrows. Just look ! "
And Ermak fired at a tree, and pierced it, and the
Cossacks began to shoot on all sides. Tauzik in fright
fell on his knees. Ermak said to him :
"Go to your King Kuchum and tell him what you
have seen! Let him surrender, and if he does not, we
wiU destroy him."
And he dismissed Tauzik.
The Cossacks rowed on. They sailed into the river
STORIES FOR CHILDREN 129
Tobol, and were getting nearer to the city of Sibir. They
sailed up to the small river Babasan, and there they saw
a small town on its bank, and around the town a large
number of Tartars.
They sent an interpreter to the Tartars, to find out
what kind of people they were. The interpreter returned,
and said :
" That is Kuchura's army that has gathered there. The
leader of that army is Kuchum's own son-in-law, Maraet-
kul. He has commanded me to tell you that you must
return, or else he will destroy you."
Ermak gathered his Cossacks, landed on the bank, and
began to shoot at the Tartars. The moment the Tartars
heard the shooting, they began to run. The Cossacks ran
after them, and killed some, and captured others. Ma-
metkul barely escaped.
The Cossacks sailed on. They sailed into a broad, rapid
river, the Irtysh. Down Irtysh River they sailed for a
day, and came to a fair town, and there they stopped. The
Cossacks went to the town. As they were coming near,
the Tartars began to shoot their arrows, and they wounded
three Cossacks. Then Eimak sent an interpreter to
tell the Tartars that they must surrender the town, or
else they would all be killed. The interpreter went, and
he returned, and said :
" Here lives Kuchum's servant, Atik Murza Kachara.
He has a large force, and he says that he will not surren-
der the town."
Ermdk gathered the Cossacks, and said :
" Boys, if we do not take this town, the Tartars will re-
joice, and will not let us pass on. The more we strike
them with terror, the easier will it be. Land all, and
attack them all at once ! "
So they did. There were many Tartars there, and they
were brave.
When the Cossacks rushed at them, the Tartars began
130 STORIES FOR CHILDREN
to shoot their arrows. They covered the Cossacks with
them. Some were killed, aud some wounded.
The Cossacks became enraged, and when they got to
the Tartars, they killed all they could lay their hands on.
In this town the Cossacks found much property, — cat-
tle, rugs, furs, and honey. They buried the dead, rested
themselves, took away much property, and sailed on. They
did not sail far, when they saw on the shore, like a city,
an endless number of troops, and the whole army sur-
rounded by a ditch and the ditch protected by timber.
The Cossacks stopped. They deliberated. Ermak gath-
ered a circle about him.
" Well, boys, what shall we do ? "
The Cossacks were frightened. Some said that they
ought to sail past, while others said that they ought to go
back.
And they looked gloomy and began to scold Ermak.
They said :
" Why did you bring us here ? Already a few of ours
have been killed, and many have been wounded ; and all
of us will perish here."
They began to weep.
But Ermak said to his sub-ataman, Ivan Koltso :
" Well, Vanya, what do you think ? "
And Koltso said :
" What do I think ? If they do not kill us to-day, they
will to-morrow ; and if not to-morrow, we shall die any-
way on the oven. In my opinion, we ought to go out on
the shore and rush in a body against the Tartars. Maybe
God will give us victory."
Ermak said :
" You are a brave man, Vanya ! That is what must be
done. Oh, you boys ! You are not Cossacks, but old
women. All you are good for is to catch sturgeon and
frighten Tartar women. Can't you see for yourselves ? If
we turn back we shall be destroyed ; and if we stay here,
STOKIES FOR CHILDREN 131
they will destroy us. How can we go back ? After a
little work, it will come easier. Listen, boys ! My
father had a strong mare. Down-hill she would pull
and on an even place she would pull. But when it came
to going up-hill, she became stubborn and turned back,
thinking that it would be easier. But my father took a
club and belaboured her with it. She twisted and tugged
and broke the whole cart. My father unhitched her from
the cart and gave her a terrible whacking. If she had
pulled the cart, she would have suffered no torment. So
ifc is with us, boys. There is only one thing left for us
to do, and that is to make straight for the Tartars."
The Cossacks laughed, and said :
" Timof^ich, you are evidently more clever than we are.
You have no business to ask us fools. Take us where
you please. A man does not die twice, and one death
cannot be escaped."
And Ermak said :
" Listen, boys ! This is what we shall do. They have
not yet seen us all. Let us di\ade into three parts. Those
in the middle will march straight against them, and the
other two divisions will surround them on the right and
on the left. When the middle detachment begins to walk
toward them, they will think that we are all there, and so
they will leap forward. Then we will strike them from
the sides. That's the way, boys ! If we beat these, we
shall not have to be afraid of anybody. We shall our-
selves be kings."
And so they did. When the middle detat;hment with
Ennak advanced, the Tartars screamed and leaped forward ;
then they were attacked by Ivan Koltso on the right, and
by Meshcheryakov the ataman on the left. The Tartars
were frightened, and ran. The Cossacks killed a great
many of them. After that nobody dared to oppose Ermak.
And thus he entered the very city of Sibir. And there
Ermak settled down as though he were a king.
132 STOKIES FOR CHILDREN
Then kinglets came to see Ermak, to bow to him. Tar-
tars began to settle down in Sibir, and Kuchum and his
son-in-law Mametkul were afraid to go straight at him, but
kept going around in a circle, wondering how they might
destroy him.
In the spring, during high water, the Tartars came
running to Ermak, and said :
" Mametkul is again going against you : he has gathered
a large army, and is making a stand near the river Vagay."
Ermak made his way over rivers, swamps, brooks, and
forests, stole up with his Cossacks, rushed against Mamet-
kul, killed a large number of Tartars, and took Mametkul
alive and brought him to Sibir. After that there were
only a few unruly Tartars left, and Ermak went that
summer against those that had not yet surrendered ; and
along the Irtysh and the Ob Ermak conquered so much
land that one could not march around it in two months.
When Ermak had conquered all that land, he sent a
messenger to the Stroganovs, and a letter :
" I have taken Kuchum's city," he said, " and have
captured Mametkul, and have brought all the people here
under my rule. Only I have lost many Cossacks. Send
people to us that we may feel more cheerful. There is no
end to the wealth in this country."
He sent to them many costly furs, — fox, marten, and
sable furs.
Two years passed after that. Ermak was still holding
Sibir, but no aid came from Russia, and few Russians
were left with Ermak.
One day the Tartar Karacha sent a messenger to
Ermak, saying :
" We have surrendered to you, but now the Nogays are
oppressing us. Send your brave men to aid us ! We
shall together conquer the Nogays. And we swear to
you that we shall not insult your brave men."
Ermak beheved their oath, and sent forty men under
STOKIES FOE CHILDREN 133
Ivan Koltso. When these forty men came there, the
Tartars rushed against them and killed them, so there
were still fewer Cossacks left.
Another time some Bukhara merchants sent word to
Ermak that they were on their way to the city of Sibir
with goods, but that Kuchum had taken his stand with
an army and would not let them pass through.
Ermak took with him fifty men and went out to clear
the road for the Bukhara merchants. He came to the
Irtysh Eiver, but did not find the Bukharans. He re-
mained there over night. It was a dark night, and it
rained. The Cossacks had just lain down to sleep, when
suddenly the Tartars rushed out and threw themselves on
the sleepy men and began to strike them down. Ermak
jumped up and began to fight. He was wounded in the
hand. He ran toward the river. The Tartars after him.
He into the river. That was the last time he was seen.
His body was not recovered, and no one found out how
he died.
The following year came the Tsar's army, and the
Tartars were pacified.
NATURAL SCIENCE STORIES
1869- 1872
NATURAL SCIENCE STORIES
STORIES FROM PHYSICS
THE MAGNET
In olden days there was a shepherd whose name was
Magnes. Magnes lost a sheep. He went to the moun-
tains to find it. He came to a place where there were
barren rocks. He walked over these rocks, and felt that
his boots were sticking to them. He touched them with
his hand, but they were dry and did not stick to his hand.
He started to walk again, and again his boots stuck to
the rocks. He sat down, took off one of his boots, took it
into his hand, and touched the rocks with it.
Whenever he touched them with his skin, or with the
sole of his boot, they did not stick ; but when he touched
them with the nails, they did stick.
Magnes had a cane with an iron point.
He touched a rock with the wood ; it did not stick ;
he touched it with the iron end, and it stuck so that he
could not pull it off.
Magnes looked at the stone, and he saw that it looked
like iron, and he took pieces of that stone home with him.
Since then that rock has been known, and has been called
Magnet.
137
loS NATURAL SCIENCE STORIES
n.
Magnet is found in the earth -w-ith iron ore. 'VMiere
there is magnet in the ore, the iron is of the best quality.
The magnet resembles iron.
If you put a piece of iron on a magnet, the iron itself
begins to attract other iron. And if you put a steel
needle on a magnet, and hold it thus for awhile, the
needle will become a magnet, and will attract iron. If
rwo magnets are brought together at their ends, one side
will turn away from the other, while the other sides will
be attracted.
If a magnetic rod is broken in two, each half will
attract at one end, and will turn away at the other end.
Cut it again, and the same will happen ; cut it again, as
often as you please, and still the same will happen : equal
ends will turn away from each other, while opposite ends
will be attracted, as though the magnet were pushing
away at one end, and pulling in at the other. Xo matter
how you may break it, it will be as though there were a
bump at one end, and a saucer at the other. "NMiichever
way you put them together, ■ — a bump and a saucer will
meet, but a bump and a bump, or a saucer and a saucer
will not.
nL
If you magnetize a needle (holding it for awhile over
a magnet), and attach it in the middle to a pivot in such
a way that it can move freely around, and let it loose, it
will turn with one end toward midday (south), and with
the other toward midnight (north).
"When the magnet was not known, people did not sail
far out to sea. When they went out far into the sea, so
that land was not to be seen, they could teU only by the
stars and the srm where they had to sail But when it
was dark, and the sun or stars could not be seen, thev did
NATURAL SCIEXCE STORIES 139
not know which way tx) sail And a ship was borne by
the winds and carried on rocks and wrecked-
So long as the magnet was not known, they did not
sail far from the shore; but when the magnet was dis-
covered, thev made a magnetic needle on a pivot, so that
it should move around freely. By this needle they could
tell in which direction to sail With the magnetic needle
they began to sail farther away from the shores, and since
then they have discovered many new seas.
On ships there is always a magnetic needle (compass),
and there is a measuring-rope with knots at the stem of
a ship. This rope is fixed in such a way that when it
unrolls, they can tell how far the ship has travelled- And
thus, in sailing in a boat, they always know in what spot
it is, whether far from the shore, and in what direction it
is sailing.
MOISTURE
Why does a spider sometimes make a close cobweb,
and sit in the very middle of its nest, and at other times
leave its nest and start a new spider-web ?
The spider makes its cobweb according to the weathei,
both the present and the future weather. Looking at a
spider, you can tell what kind of weather it is going to
be : if it sits tightly in the middle of the cobweb and
does not come out, it means that it is going to rain. If
it leaves the nest and makes new cobwebs, it is going to
clear off.
How can the spider know in advance what weather it
is going to be ?
The spider's senses are so fine that as soon as the mois-
ture begins to gather in the air, — though we do not yet
feel it, and for us the weather is clear, — for the spider it
is already raining.
Just as a naked man will feel the moisture, when a
man in his clothes does not, so it is already raining for a
spider, while for us it is only getting ready to rain.
n.
Why do the doors swell in the winter and close badly,
while in the summer they shrink and close well ?
Because in the fall and winter the wood is saturated
with water, like a sponge, and spreads out, while in the
140
NATURAL SCIENCE STORIES 141
summer the water comes out as a vapour, and the wood
shrinks.
Why does soft wood, like aspen, swell more, and oak
less?
Because in the hard wood, in the oak, the empty places
are smaller, and the water cannot gather there, while in
the soft wood in the aspen, there are larger empty places,
and the water can gather there. In rotten wood these
empty places are still larger, and so rotten wood swells
most and shrinks most.
Beehives are made out of the softest and rottenest
wood ; the very best are made from rotten willow wood.
Why ? Because the air passes through the rotten wood,
and in such a hive the bees feel better.
Why do boards warp ?
Because they dry unevenly. If you place a damp
board with one side toward the stove, the water will leave
it, and the board will contract on that side and will pull
the other side along ; but the damp side cannot contract,
because it is full of water, and so the whole board will be
bent.
To keep the floors from warping, the dry boards are
cut into small pieces, and these pieces are boiled in water.
When all the water is boiled out of them, they are glued
together, and then they never warp (parquetry).
THE DIFFERENT CONNECTION OF PARTICLES
Why are cart bolsters cut and wheel naves turned not
from oak, but from birch ? Bolsters and naves have to
be strong, and oak is not more expensive than birch.
Because oak splits lengthwise, and birch does not split,
but ravels out.
Because, though oak is more firmly connected than
birch, it is connected in such a way that it splits length-
wise, while birch does not.
Why are wheels and runners bent from oak and elm,
and not from birch and linden ?
Because, when oak and elm are steamed in a bath,
they bend and do not break, while birch and linden ravel
in every direction.
This is again for the same reason, that is, that the par-
ticles of the wood in the oak and in the birch are differ-
ently connected.
142
CEYSTALS
If you pour salt into water and stir it, the salt will be-
gin to melt and will entirely disappear ; but if you pour
more and still more salt into it, the salt will in the end
not dissolve, and no matter how much you may stir after
that, the salt will remain as a white powder. The water
is saturated with the salt and cannot receive any more.
But heat the water and it wiU receive more ; and the
salt which did not dissolve in the cold water, will melt in
hot water. But pour in more salt, even the hot water
will not receive it. And if you heat the water still more,
the water will pass away in steam, and more of the salt
will be left.
Thus, for everything which dissolves in the water
there is a measure after which the water will not dissolve
any more. Of anything, more will be dissolved in hot
than in cold water, and in each case, when it is saturated,
it will not receive any more. The thing will be left, but
the water will go away in steam.
If the water is saturated with saltpetre powder, and
then more saltpetre is added, and all is heated and is al-
lowed to cool off without being stirred, the superfluous
saltpetre will not settle as a powder at the bottom of the
water, but will all gather in little six-edged columns, and
will settle at the bottom and at the sides, one column
near another. If the water is saturated with saltpetre
powder and is put in a warm place, the water will go
away in vapours, and the superfluous saltpetre will again
gather in six -edged columns.
If water is saturated with simple salt and heated, and
143
144 NATURAL SCIENCE STORIES
is allowed to pass away in vapour, the superfluous salt will
not settle as powder, but as little cubes. If the water is
saturated both with salt and saltpetre, the superfluous salt
and saltpetre will not mix, but will settle each in its own
way : the saltpetre in columns, and the salt in cubes.
If water is saturated with lime, or with some other salt,
and anything else, each thing will settle in its own way,
when the water passes away in vapour : one in three-edged
columns, another in eight-edged columns, a third in bricks,
a fourth in Httle stars, — each in its own way. These
figures are difl'erent in each solid thing. At times these
forms are as large as a hand, — such stones are found in
the ground. At times these forms are so small that they
cannot be made out with the naked eye ; but in each
thing there is its own form.
If, when the water is saturated with saltpetre, and little
figures are forming in it, a corner be broken off one of
these little figures with a needle, new pieces of saltpetre
will come up and will fix the broken end as it ought to
be, — into a six-edged column. The same will happen to
salt and to any other thing. All the tiny particles turn
around and attach themselves with the right side to each
other.
When ice freezes, the same takes place.
A snowflake flies, and no figure is seen in it; but the
moment it settles on anything dark and cold, on cloth, on
fur, — you can make out its figure ; you will see a little
star, or a six-cornered little board. On the windows the
steam does not freeze in any form whatever, but always
as a star.
What is ice ? It is cold, solid water. Wlien liquid
water becomes solid, it forms itself into figures and the
heat leaves it. The same takes place with saltpetre :
when it changes from a liquid into solid figures, the heat
leaves it. The same is true of salt, of melted cast-iron,
when it changes from a liquid into a solid. Whenever a
NATURAL SCIENCE STORIES 145
thing changes from a liquid into a solid, heat leaves it,
and it forms figures. And when it changes from a solid
to a liquid it takes up heat, and the cold leaves it, and its
figures are dissolved.
Bring in melted iron and let it cool off; bring in hot
dough and let it cool off; bring in slacked lime and let it
cool off, — and it will be warm. Bring in ice and let
it melt, — and it will grow cold. Bring in saltpetre, salt,
or any other thing that dissolves in the water, and melt it
in the water, and it will grow cold. In order to freez-
ice-cream, they put salt in the water.
INJUEIOUS AIR
In the village of Mkolskoe, the people went on a holi-
day to mass. In the manor yard were left the cow-tender,
the elder, and the groom. The cow-tender went to the
well for water. The well was in the yard itself. She
pulled out the bucket, but could not hold it. The bucket
pulled away from her, struck the side of the well, and tore
the rope. The cow-tender returned to the hut and said
to the elder :
" Aleksandr ! Climb down into the well, — I have
dropped the bucket into it."
Aleksandr said :
" You have dropped it, so climb down yourself."
The cow-tender said that she did not mind fetching it
herself, if he would let her down.
The elder laughed at her, and said :
" Well, let us go ! You have an empty stomach now,
so I shall be able to hold you up, for after dinner I could
not do it."
The elder tied a stick to a rope, and the woman sat
astride it, took hold of the rope, and began to climb down
into the well, while the elder turned the well-wheel. The
well was about twenty feet deep, and there was less than
three feet of water in it. The elder let her down slowly,
and kept asking :
" A little more ? "
And the cow-tender cried from below :
" Just a little more ! "
Suddenly the elder felt the rope give way : he called
the cow-tender, but she did not answer. The elder looked
146
NATUKAL SCIENCE STORIES 147
into the well, and saw the cow-tender lying with her head
in the water, and with her feet in the air. The elder
called for help, but there was nobody near by ; only the
groom came. The elder told him to hold the wheel, and
he himself pulled out the rope, sat down on the stick,
and went down into the well.
The moment the groom let the elder down to the water,
the same thing happened to the elder. He let go of the
rope and fell head foremost upon the woman. The groom
began to cry, and ran to church to call the people. Mass
was over, and people were walking home. All the
men and women rushed to the well. They gathered
around it, and everybody holloaed, but nobody knew what
to do. The young carpenter Ivan made his way through
the crowd, took hold of the rope, sat down on the stick,
and told them to let him down. Ivan tied himself to the
rope with his belt. Two men let him down, and the rest
looked into the well, to see what would become of Ivan.
Just as he was getting near the water, he dropped his
hands from the rope, and would have fallen down head
foremost, if the belt had not held him. All shouted,
" Pull him out ! " and Ivan was pulled out.
He hung like dead down from the belt, and his head
was drooping and beating against the sides of the well.
His face was livid. They took him off the rope and put
him down on the ground. They thought that he was
dead ; but he suddenly drew a deep breath, began to
rattle, and soon revived.
Others wanted to chmb down, but an old peasant said
that they could not go down because there was bad air in
the well, and that that bad air killed people. Then the
peasants ran for hooks and began to pull out the elder
and the woman. The elder's mother and wife cried at the
well, and others tried to quiet them ; in the meantime
the peasants put down the hooks and tried to get out the
dead people. Twice they got the elder half-way up by
148 NATURAL SCIENCE STORIES
his clothes ; but he was heavy, and his clothes tore and
he fell down. Finally they stuck two hooks into him
and pulled him out. Then they pulled out the cow-tender.
Both were dead and did not revive.
Then, when they examined the well, they found that
indeed there was bad air down in the well.
This air is so heavy that neither man nor any animal
can live in it. They let down a cat into the well, and the
moment she reached the place where the bad air was,
she died. Not only can no animal live there, even no
candle will burn in it. They let down a candle, and the
moment it reached that spot, it went out.
There are places underground where that air gathers,
and when a person gets into one of those places, he dies
at once. For this purpose they have lamps in the mines,
and before a man goes down to such a place, they let
down the lamp. If it goes out, no man can go there ;
then they let down fresh air until the lamp will burn.
Near the city of Naples there is one such cave. There
is always about three feet of bad air in it on the ground,
but above it the air is good. A man can walk through
the cave, and nothing will happen to him, but a dog will
die the moment it enters.
Where does this bad air come from ? It is made of
the same good air that we breathe. If you gather a lot
of people in one place, and close all the doors and win-
dows, so that no fresh air can get in, you will get the
same kind of an air as in the well, and people will die.
One hundred years ago, during a war, the Hindoos cap-
tured 146 Englishmen and shut them up in a cave under-
ground, where the air could not get in.
After the captured Englishmen had been there a few
hours they began to die, and toward the end of the night
123 had died, and the rest came out more dead than
alive, and ailing. At first the air had been good in the
cave ; but when the captives had inhaled all the good air,
NATURAL SCIENCE STORIES 149
and no fresh air came in, it became bad, just like what
was in the well, and they died.
Why does the good air become bad when many peo-
ple come together ?
Because, when people breathe, they take in good air
and breathe out bad air.
HOW BALLOONS AEE MADE
If you take a blown-up bladder uuder water and let go
of it, it will fly up to the surface of the water and will
swim on it. Just so, when water is boiled in a pot, it
becomes light at the bottom, over the fire, — it is turned
into a gas ; and when a little of that water-gas is collected
it goes up as a bubble. First comes up one bubble, then
another, and when the whole water is heated, the
bubbles come up without stopping. Then the water
boils.
Just as the bubbles leap to the surface, full of vapoury
water, because they are lighter than water, just so will a
bladder which is filled with hydrogen, or with hot air,
rise, because hot air is hghter than cold air, and hydrogen
is lighter than any other gases.
Balloons are made with hydrogen or with hot air.
With hydrogen they are made as follows : They make a
large bladder, attach it by ropes to posts, and fill it with
hydrogen. The moment the ropes are untied, the balloon
flies up in the air, and keeps flying up until it gets
beyond the air which is heavier than hydrogen. When it
gets up into the light air, it begins to swim in it like a
bladder on the surface of the water.
With hot air balloons are made like this : They make
a large empty ball, with a neck below, like an upturned
pitcher, and to the mouth of it they attach a bunch of
cotton, and that cotton is soaked with spirits, and lighted.
The fire heats the air in the balloon, and makes it lighter
than the cold air, and the balloon is drawn upward, like
the bladder in the water. And the balloon will fly up
160
NATUKAL SCIENCE STORIES 151
until it comes to the air which is lighter than the hot air
in the balloon.
Xearly one hundred years ago two Frenchmen, the
brothers Montgolfier, invented the air balloons. They
made a balloon of canvas and paper and filled it with hot
air, — the balloon flew. Then they made another, a larger
balloon, and tied under the balloon a sheep, a cock, and a
duck, and let it off. The balloon rose and came down
safely. Then they attached a Httle basket under the
balloon, and a man seated himself in it. The balloon
flew so high that it disappeared from view ; it flew away,
and came down safely. Then they thought of filling a
balloon with hydrogen, and began to fly higher and faster.
In order to fly with a balloon, they attach a basket
under the balloon, and in this basket two, three, and even
eight persons are seated, and they take with them food
and drink.
In order to rise and come down as one pleases, there is
a valve in the balloon, and the man who is flying with it
can pull a rope and open or close the valve. If the balloon
rises too high, and the man who is flying wants to come
down, he opens the valve, — the gas escapes, the balloon
is compressed, and begins to come down. Then there are
always bags with sand in the balloon. When a bag with
sand is thrown out, the balloon gets lighter, and it flies
up. If the one who is flying wants to get down, but sees
that it is not what lu3 wants below him, — either a river
or a forest, — he throws out the sand from the bags, and
the balloon grows lighter and rises again.
GALVANISM
Theee was once a learned Italian, Galvani. He had an
electric machine, and he showed his students what elec-
tricity was. He rubbed the glass hard with silk with
something smeared over it, and then he approached to the
glass a brass knob which was attached to the glass, and a
spark flew across from the glass to the brass knob. He
explained to them that the same kind of a spark came
from sealing-wax and amber. He showed them that
feathers and bits of paper were now attracted, and now
repelled, by electricity, and explained to them the reason
of it. He did all kinds of experiments with electricity,
and showed them all to his students.
Once his wife grew ill. He called a doctor and asked
him how to cure her. The doctor told him to prepare a
frog soup for her. Galvani gave order to have edible
frogs caught. They caught them for him, killed them,
and left them on his table.
Before the cook came after the frogs, Galvani kept on
showing the electric machine to his students, and sending
sparks through it.
Suddenly he saw the dead frogs jerk their legs on the
table. He watched them, and saw that every time when
he sent a spark through the machine, the frogs jerked
their legs. Galvani collected more frogs, and began to
experiment with them. And every time he sent a spark
through the machine, the dead frogs moved their legs as
though they were alive.
It occurred to Galvani that live frogs moved their legs
because electricity passed through them. Galvani knew
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NATURAL SCIENCE STORIES 153
that there was electricity in the air ; that it was more
noticeable in the amber and glass, but that it was also in
the air, and that thunder and lightning came from the
electricity in the air.
So he tried to discover whether the dead frogs would
not move their legs from the electricity in the air. For
this purpose he took the frogs, skinned them, chopped oS
their heads, and hung them on brass hooks on the roof,
beneath an iron gutter. He thought that as soon as there
should be a storm, and the air should be filled with elec-
tricity, it would pass by the brass rod to the frogs, and
they would begin to move.
But the storm passed several times, and the frogs did
not move. Galvani was just taking them down, and as
he did so a frog's leg touched the iron gutter, and it
jerked. Galvani took down the frogs and made the fol-
lowing experiment : he tied to the brass hook an iron
wire, and touched the leg with the wire, and it jerked.
So Galvani decided that the animals lived because
there was electricity in them, and that the electricity
jumped from the brain to the flesh, and that made the
animals move. Nobody had at that time tried this mat-
ter and they did not know any better, and so they all
believed Galvani. But at that time another learned man,
Volta, experimented in his own way, and proved to every-
body that Galvani was mistaken. He tried touching the
frog differently from what Galvani had done, not with a
copper hook with an iron wire, but either with a copper
hook and a copper wire, or an iron hook and an iron wire,
— and the frogs did not move. The frogs moved only
when Volta touched them with an iron wire that was
connected with a copper wire.
Volta thought that the electricity was not in the dead
frog but in the iron and copper. He experimented and
found it to be so : whenever he brought together the iron
and the copper, there was electricity ; and this electricity
164 NATURAL SCIENCE STORIES
made the dead frogs jerk their legs. Volta tried to pro-
duce electricity differently from what it had been produced
before. Before that they used to get electricity by
rubbing glass or sealing-wax. But Volta got electricity
by uniting iron and copper. He tried to connect iron and
copper and other metals, and by the mere combination of
metals, silver, platinum, zinc, lead, iron, he produced elec-
tric sparks.
After Volta they tried to increase electricity by pour-
ing all kinds of liquids — water and acids — between
the metals. These liquids made the electricity more
powerful, so that it was no longer necessary, as before, to
rub in order to produce it ; it is enough to put pieces of
several metals in a bowl and fill it with a liquid, and
there will be electricity in that bowl, and the sparks will
come from the wires.
When this kind of electricity was discovered, people
began to apply it : they invented a way of gold and sil-
ver plating by means of electricity, and electric hght,
and a way to transmit signs from place to place over a
long distance by means of electricity.
For this purpose pieces of different metals are placed
in jars, and hquids are poured into them. Electricity is
collected in these jars, and is transferred by means of
wires to the place where it is wanted, and from that
place the wire is put into the ground. The electricity
runs through the ground back to the jars, and rises from
the earth by means of the other wire ; thus the electric-
ity keeps going around and around, as in a ring, — from the
wire into the ground, and along the ground, and up the
wire, and again through the earth. Electricity can travel
in either direction, just as one wants to send it : it can
first go along the wire and return through the earth, or
first go through the earth, and then return through the
wire. Above the wire, in the place where the signs are
given, there is attached a magnetic hand, and that hand
NATURAL SCIENCE STORIES 155
turns in one direction, when the electricity is allowed
to pass through the wire and back through the earth,
and in another direction, when the electricity is sent
through the earth and back through the wire. Along this
hand there are certain signs, and by means of these signs
they write from one place to another on the telegraph.
THE SUN'S HEAT
Go out in the winter on a calm, frosty day into the
field, or into the woods, and look about you and listen :
all around you is snow, the rivers are frozen, dry grass
blades stick out of the grass, the trees are bare, — noth-
ing is moving.
Look in the summer : the rivers are running and rip-
pling, in every puddle the frogs croak and plunge in ; the
birds fly from place to place, and whistle, and sing ; the
flies and the gnats whirl around and buzz ; the trees and
the grass grow and wave to and fro.
Freeze a pot with water, and it will become as hard
as a rock. Put the frozen pot on the fire : the ice
will begin to break, and melt, and move ; the water will
begin to stir, and bubbles will rise ; then, when it begins
to boil, it whirls about and makes a noise. The same
happens in the world from the heat. Without heat
everything is dead ; with the heat everything moves and
lives. If there is little heat, there is little motion ; with
more heat, there is more motion ; with much heat, there
is much motion ; with very much heat, there is also very
much motion.
Where does the heat in the world come from ? The
heat comes from the sun.
In winter the sun travels low, to one side, and its
beams do not fall straight upon the earth, and nothing
moves. The suu begins to travel higher above our heads,
and begins to shine straight down upon the earth, and
everything is warmed up in the world, and begins to stir.
The snow settles down ; the ice begins to melt on the
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NATURAL SCIENCE STORIES 157
rivers ; the water comes down from the mountains ; the
vapours rise from the water to the clouds, and rain begins
to fall. Who does it all ? — The sun. The seeds swell, and
let out rootlets ; the rootlets take hold of the ground ; old
roots send up new shoots, an"d the trees and the grass
begin to grow. Who has done that ? — The sun.
The bears and moles get up ; the flies and bees awaken ;
the gnats are hatched, and the fish come out from their eggs,
when it is warm. Who has done it all ? — The sun.
The air gets warmed up in one place, and rises, and iu
its place comes colder air, — and there is a wind. Who
has done that ? — The sun.
The clouds rise and begin to gather and to scatter, —
and the lightning flashes. Who has made that fire ? —
The sun.
The grass, the grain, the fruits, the trees grow up:
animals find their food, men eat their fill, and gather food
and fuel for the winter ; they build themselves houses,
railways, cities. Who has prepared it all ? — The sun.
A man has built himself a house. What has he made
it of ? Of timbers. The timbers were cut out of trees,
but the trees are made to grow by the sun.
The stove is heated with wood. Who has made the
wood to grow ? — The sun.
Man eats bread, or potatoes. Who has made thv^.m
grow ? — The sun. Man eats meat. Who has made the
animals, the birds to grow ? — The grass. But the grass
is made to grow by the sun.
A man builds himself a house from brick and lime.
The bricks and the lime are burnt by wood. The wood
has been prepared by the sun.
Everything that men need, that is for their use, — r all
that is prepared by the sun, and on all that goes much
sun's heat. The reason that men need bread is because
the sun has produced it, and because there is much sun's
heat in it. Bread warms him who eats it.
158 NATURAL SCIENCE STORIES
The reason that wood and logs are needed is because
there is much heat in them. He who buys wood for the
winter, buys sun's heat ; and in the winter he burns
the wood whenever he wants it, and lets the sun's heat
into his room.
When there is heat, there is motion. No matter what
motion it may be, — it all comes from heat, either directly
from the sun's heat, or from the heat which the sun has
prepared in the coal, the wood, the bread, and the grass.
Horses and oxen pull, men work, — who moves them ?
— Heat. Where does the heat come from ? — From the
food. And the food has been prepared by the sun.
Watermills and windmills turn around and grind. Who
moves them ? — Wind and water. And who drives the
wind ? — Heat. And who drives the water ? — Again heat.
Heat raises the water in the shape of vapour, and without
this the water would not be falling down. A machine
works, — it is moved by steam. And who makes steam ?
— Wood. And in the wood is the sun's heat.
Heat makes motion, and motion makes heat. And both
heat and motion are from the sun.
STORIES FROM ZOOLOGY
THE OWL AND THE HAEE
It was dusk. The owls began to fly through the forest
to find some prey.
A large hare leaped out on a clearing and began to
smooth out his fur. An old owl looked at the hare, and
seated himself on a branch ; but a young owl said to him :
" Why do you not catch the hare ? "
The old owl said :
" He is too much for me : if I get caught in him, he will
drag me into the woods."
But the young owl said :
" I will stick one claw into his body, and with the other
I will clutch a tree."
The young owl made for the hare, and stuck one claw
into his back so that all his talons entered the flesh, and
the other claw it got ready to push into the tree. The
hare yanked the owl, while the owl held on to the tree,
and thought, " He will not get away." The hare darted
forward and tore the owl. One claw was left in the tree,
and the other in the hare's back.
The next year a hunter killed that hare, and wondered
how the owl's talons had grown into the hare's back.
159
HOW THE WOLVES TEACH THEIR WHELPS
I WAS walking along the road, and heard a shout be-
hind me. It was the shepherd boy who was shouting.
He was running through the field, and pointing to some-
thing.
I looked, and saw two wolves running through the
field: one was full-grown, and the other a whelp. The
whelp was carrying a dead lamb on his shoulders, and
holding on to one of its legs with its teeth. The old wolf
was running behind. When I saw the wolves, I ran after
them with the shepherd, and we began to shout. In re-
sponse to our cries came peasants with dogs.
The moment the old wolf saw the dogs and the people,
he ran up to the whelp, took the lamb away from him,
threw it over his back, and both wolves ran as fast as they
could, and disappeared from view.
Then the boy told what had happened : the large wolf
had leaped out from the ravine, had seized the lamb, killed
it, and carried it off.
The whelp ran up to him and grasped the lamb. The
old wolf let the whelp carry the lamb, while he himself
ran slowly beside him.
Only when there was danger, did the old wolf stop his
teaching and himself take the lamb.
160
HAEES AND WOLVES
The hares feed at night on tree bark ; the field hares
eat the winter rye and the grass, and the threshing-floor
hares eat the grain in the granary. Through the night
the hares make a deep, visible track through the snow.
The hares are hunted by men, and dogs, and wolves, and
foxes, and ravens, and eagles. If a hare walked straight
ahead, he would be easily caught in the morning by his
tracks ; but God has made a hare timid, and his timidity
saves him.
A hare goes at night fearlessly through the forests and
fields, making straight tracks ; but as soon as morning
comes and his enemies wake up, and he hears the bark of
dogs, or the squeak of sleighs, or the voice of peasants, or
the crashing of a woK through the forest, he begins to
toss from side to side in his fear. He jumps forward,
gets frightened at something, and runs back on his track.
He hears something again, and he leaps at full speed to
one side and runs away from his old track. Again some-
thing makes a noise, and the hare turns back, and again
leaps to one side. When it is daylight, he lies down.
In the morning the hunters try to follow the hare
tracks, and they get mixed up on the double tracks and
long leaps, and marvel at the hare's cunning. But the
hare did not mean to be cunning. He is merely afraid of
everything.
161
THE SCENT "
Man sees with his eyes, hears with his ears, smells
with his nose, tastes with his mouth, and feels with his
fingers. One man's eyes see better, another man's see
worse. One hears from a distance, and another is deaf.
One has keen senses and smells a thing from a distance,
while another smells at a rotten egg and does not perceive
it. One can tell a thing by the touch, and another cannot
tell by touch what is wood and what paper. One will
take a substance in his mouth and will find it sweet, while
another will swallow it without making out whether it is
bitter or sweet.
Just so the different senses differ in strength in the
animals. But with all the animals the sense of smell is
stronger than in man.
When a man wants to recognize a thing, he looks at it,
listens to the noise that it makes, now and then smells at
it, or tastes it ; but, above all, a man has to feel a thing,
to recognize it.
But nearly all animals more than anything else need to
smell a thing, A horse, a wolf, a dog, a cow, a bear do
not know a thing until they smell it.
When a horse is afraid of anything, it snorts, — it
clears its nose so as to scent better, and does not stop be-
ing afraid until it has smelled the object well.
A dog frequently follows its master's track, but when
it sees him, it does not recognize him and begins to bark,
until it smells him and finds out that that which has looked
so terrible is its master.
Oxen see other oxen stricken down, and hear them roar
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NATURAL SCIENCE STORIES 163
in the slaughter-house, but still do not understand what is
going on. But an ox or a cow need only find a spot
where there is ox blood, and smell it, and it will uuder-
stand and will roar and strike with its feet, and cannot be
driven off the spot.
An old man's wife had fallen ill ; he went himself to
milk the cow. The cow snorted, — she discovered that it
was not her mistress, and would not give him any milk.
The mistress told her husband to put on her fur coat and
kerchief, — and the cow gave milk ; but the old man threw
open the coat, and the cow scented him, and stopped
giving milk.
When hounds follow an animal's trail, they never run
on the track itself, but to one side, about twenty paces
from it. When an inexperienced hunter wants to show
the dog the scent, and sticks its nose on the track, it will
always jump to one side. The track itself smells so strong
to the dog that it cannot make out on the track whether
the animal has run ahead or backward. It runs to one
side, and then only discovers in what direction the scent
grows stronger, and so follows the animal. The dog does
precisely what we do when somebody speaks very loud
in our ears ; we step a distance away, and only then do
we make out what is being said. Or, if anything we are
looking at is too close, we step back and only then make
it out.
Dogs recognize each other and make signs to each other
by means of their scent.
The scent is more dehcate still in insects. A bee flies
directly to the flower that it wants to reach ; a worm
crawls to its leaf ; a bedbug, a flea, a mosquito scents a
man a hundred thousand of its steps away.
If the particles which separate from a substance and
enter our noses are small, how small must be those
particles that reach the organ of smell of the insects !
TOUCH AND SIGHT
Twist the forefinger over the middle finger and touch
a small ball with them, so that it may roll between the
two fingers, and shut your eyes. You will think that
there are two balls. Open your eyes, — and you will see
that it is one ball. The fijigers have deceived you, but
the eyes correct you.
Look (best of all sidewise) at a good, clean mirror, —
you will think that it is a window or a door, and that
there is something behind it. Touch it with a finger, —
and you will see that it is a mirror. The eyes have
deceived you, but the fingers correct you.
184
THE SILKWORM
I HAD some old mulberry-trees in my garden. My
grandfather had planted them. In the fall I was given
a dram of silkworm eggs, and was advised to hatch them
and raise silkworms. These eggs are dark gray and so
small that in that dram I counted 5,835 of them. They
are smaller than the tiniest pin-head. They are quite
dead ; only when you crush them do they crack.
The eggs had been lying around on my table, and I
had almost forgotten about them.
One day, in the spring, I went into the orchard and
noticed the buds swelling on the mulberry-trees, and where
the sun beat down, the leaves were out. I thought of the
silkworm eggs, and took them apart at home and gave
them more room. The majority of the eggs were no
longer dark gray, as before, but some were light gray,
while others were lighter still, with a milky shade.
The next morning I looked at the eggs, and saw that
some of the worms had hatched out, while other eggs
were quite swollen. Evidently they felt in their shells
that their food was ripening.
The worms were black and shaggy, and so small that
it was hard to see them. I looked at them through a
magnifying-glass, and saw that in the eggs they lay curled
up in rings, and when they came out they straightened
themselves out I went to the garden for some mulberry
leaves ; I got about three handfuls of leaves, which I put
on my table, and began to fix a place for the worms, as I
had been taught to do.
While I was fixing the paper, the worms smelled
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166 NATURAL SCIENCE STORIES
their food and started to crawl toward it. I pushed
it away, and began to entice the worms to a leaf, and
they made for it, as dogs make for a piece of meat, crawl-
ing after the leaf over the cloth of the table and across
pencils, scissors, and papers. Then I cut off" a piece of
paper, stuck holes through it with a penknife, placed
the leaf on top of it, and with the leaf put it down on
the worms. The worms crawled through the holes,
climbed on the leaf, and started to eat.
When the other worms hatched out, I again put a piece
of paper with a leaf on them, and all crawled through the
holes and began to eat. The worms gathered on each
leaf and nibbled at it from its edges. Then, when they
had eaten everything, they crawled on the paper and
looked for more food. Then I put on them new sheets
of perforated paper with mulberry leaves upon them, and
they crawled over to the new food.
They were lying on my shelf, and when there was no leaf,
they chmbed about the shelf, and came to its very edge,
but they never fell down, though they are bhnd. The
moment a worm comes to an edge, it lets out a web from
its mouth before descending, and then it attaches itself
to it and lets itself down ; it hangs awhile in the air, and
watches, and if it wants to get down farther, it does so,
and if not, it pulls itself up by its web.
For days at a time the worms did nothing but eat. I
had to give them more and more leaves. When a new
leaf was brought, and they transferred themselves to it,
they made a noise as though a rain were falling on leaves,
— that was when they began to eat the new leaf.
Thus the older worms lived for five days. They had
grown very large and began to eat ten times as much as
ever. On the fifth day, I knew, they would fall asleep,
and waited for that to happen. Toward evening, on the
fifth day, one of the older worms stuck to the paper and
stopped eating and stirring.
NATURAL SCIENCE STORIES 167
The whole next day I watched it for a long time. I
knew that worms moulted several times, because they
grew up and found it close in their old hide, and so put
on a new one.
My friend and I watched it by turns. In the evening
my friend called out :
" It has begun to undress itself, — come ! "
I went up to him, and saw that the worm had stuck
with its old hide to the paper, had torn a hole at the
mouth, thrust forth its head, and was writhing and work-
ing to get out, but the old shirt held it fast. I watched
it for a long time as it writhed and could not get out, and
I wanted to help it. I barely touched it with my nail,
but soon saw that I had done something foohsh. Under
my nail there was something liquid, and the worm died.
At first I thought that it was blood, but later I learned
that the worm has a hquid mass under its skin, so that the
shirt may come off easier. With my nail I no doubt
disturbed the new shirt, for, though the worm crawled
out, it soon died.
The other worms I did not touch. All of them came
out of their shirts in the same manner ; only a few died,
and nearly all came out safely, though they struggled
bard for a long time.
After shedding their skins, the worms began to eat
more voraciously, and more leaves were devoured. Four
days later they again fell asleep, and again crawled out
of their skins. A still larger quantity of leaves was now
consumed by them, and they were now a quarter of an
inch in length. Six days later they fell asleep once more,
and once more came out in new skins, and now were very
large and fat, and we had barely time to get leaves ready
for them.
On the ninth day the oldest worms quit eating entirely
and climbed up the shelves and rods. I gathered them
in and gave them fresh leaves, but they turned their
168 NATUEAL SCIENCE STORIES
heads away from them, and continued climbing. Then I
remembered that when the worms get ready to roll up
into larvse, they stop eating and climb upward.
I left them alone, and began to watch what they would
do.
The eldest worms chmbed to the ceiling, scattered
about, crawled in all directions, and began to draw out
single threads in various directions. I watched one of
them. It went into a corner, put forth about six threads
each two inches long, hung down from them, bent over
in a horseshoe, and began to turn its head and let out a
silk web which began to cover it all over. Toward even-
ing it was covered by it as though in a mist ; the worm
could scarcely be seen. On the following morning the
worm could no longer be seen ; it was all wrapped in
silk, and still it spun out more.
Three days later it finished spinning, and quieted down.
Later I learned how much web it had spun in those three
days. If the whole web were to be unravelled, it would
be more than half a mile in length, seldom less. And if
we figure out how many times the worm has to toss its
head in these three days in order to let out all the web,
it will appear that in these three days the worm tosses its
head 300,000 times. Consequently, it makes one turn a
second, without stopping. But after the work, when we
took down a few cocoons and broke them open, we found
inside the worms all dried up and white, looking like
pieces of wax.
I knew that from these larvae with their white, waxen
bodies would come butterflies ; but as I looked at them,
I could not believe it. None the less I went to look at
them on the twentieth day, to see what had become of
them.
On the twentieth day, I knew, there was to be a change.
Nothing was to be seen, and I was beginning to think
that something was wrong, when suddenly I noticed that
NATURAL SCIENCE STORIES 169
the end of one of the cocoons grew dark and moist. I
thought that it had probably spoiled, and wanted to
throw it away. But then I thought that perhaps it began
that way, and so I watched to see what would happen.
And, indeed, something began to move at the wet end.
For a long time I could not make out what it was. Later
there appeared something hke a head with whiskers. The
whiskers moved. Then I noticed a leg sticking out
through the hole, then another, and the legs scrambled to
get out of the cocoon. It came out more and more, and
I saw a wet butterfly. When all six legs scrambled out,
the back jumped out, too, and the butterfly crawled out
and stopped. When it dried it was white; it straight-
ened its wings, flew away, circled around, and alighted
on the window.
Two days later the butterfly on the window-sill laid
eggs in a row, and stuck them fast. The eggs were
yellow. Twenty-five butterflies laid eggs. I collected
five thousand eggs. The following year I raised more
worms, and had more silk spun.
STORIES FROM BOTANY
THE APPLE -TEEE
I SET out two hundred young apple-trees, and for three
years I dug around them in the spring and the fall, and
in winter wrapped them with straw against the hares.
On the fourth year, when the snow melted, I went to
take a look at my apple-trees. They had grown stouter
during the winter: the hark was glossy and filled with
sap ; all the branches were sound, and at all the tips and
axils there were pea-shaped flower-buds. Here and there
the buds were bursting, and the purple edges of the flower-
leaves could be seen. I knew that all the buds would be
blossoms and fruit, and I was delighted as I looked at the
apple-trees. But when I took off the wrapping from the
first tree, I saw that down at the ground the bark was
nibbled away, like a white ring, to the very wood. The
mice had done that. I unwrapped a second tree, and the
same had happened there. Of the two hundred trees not
one was unharmed. I smeared pitch and wax on the
nibbled spots ; but when the trees were all in bloom, the
blossoms at once fell off; there came out small leaves,
and they, too, dropped off. The bark became wrinkled
and black. Out of the two hundred apple-trees only nine
were left. On these nine trees the bark had not been
gnawed through all around, but strips of bark were left
on the white ring. On the strips, where the bark held
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NATURAL SCIENCE STORIES 171
together, there grew out knots, and, although the trees
sufl'ered, they Hved. All the rest were ruined ; below the
rings there came out shoots, but they were all wild.
The bark of the tree is hke the arteries in man : through
the arteries the blood goes to the whole body, and through
the bark the sap goes along the tree and reaches the
branches, leaves, and flowers. The whole inside of a tree
may be taken out, as is often the case with old willows,
and yet the tree will live so long as the bark is ahve ;
but when the bark is ruined, the tree is gone. If a man's
arteries are cut through, he will die, in the first place,
because the blood will flow out, and in the second, because
the blood will not be distributed through the body.
Even thus a birch dries up when the children bore a
hole into it, in order to drink its sap, and all the sap flows
out of it.
Just so the apple-trees were ruined because the mice
gnawed the bark all around, and the sap could not rise
from the roots to the branches, leaves, and flowers.
THE OLD POPLAR
For five years our garden was neglected. I hired
labourers with axes and shovels, and myself began to work
with them in the garden. We cut out and chopped out
all the dry branches and wild shoots, and the superfluous
trees and bushes. The poplars and bird-cherries grew
rauker than the rest and choked the other trees. A pop-
lar grows out from the roots, and it cannot be dug out,
but the roots have to be chopped out underground.
Beyond the pond there stood an enormous poplar, two
men's embraces in circumference. About it there was a
clearing, and this was all overgrown with poplar shoots.
I ordered them to be cut out : I wanted the spot to look
more cheerful, but, above all, I wanted to make it easier
for the old poplar, because I thought that all those young
trees came from its roots, and were draining it of its sap.
When we cut out these young poplars, I felt sorry as I
saw them chop out the sap-filled roots underground, and
as all four of us pulled at the poplar that had been cut
down, and could not pull it out. It held on with all its
might, and did not wish to die. I thought that, no doubt,
they had to live, since they clung so much to life. But
it was necessary to cut them down, and so I did it. Only
later, when nothing could be done, I learned that they
ought not to have been cut down.
I thought that the shoots were taking the sap away
from the old poplar, but it turned out quite differently.
When I was cutting them down, the old poplar was
already dying. When the leaves came out, I saw (it
grew from two boughs) that one bough was bare ; and
172
NATURAL SCIENCE STORIES 173
that same summer it dried up completely. The tree had
been dying for quite awhile, and the tree knew it, so it
tried to give its life to the shoots.
That was the reason why they grew so fast. I wanted
to make it easier for the tree, and only killed all its
children.
THE BIED-CHEREY
A BIRD - CHEERY grew out on a hazel bush path and
choked the bushes. I deliberated for a long time whether
I had better cut down the bird-cherry, or not. This bird-
cherry grew not as a bush, but as a tree, about six inches
in diameter and thirty feet high, full of branches and
bushy, and all besprinkled with bright, white, fragrant
blossoms. You could smell it from a distance. I should
not have cut it down, but one of the labourers (to whom
I had before given the order to cut down the bird-cherry)
had begun to chop it without me. When I came, he had
already cut in about three inches, and the sap splashed
under the axe whenever it struck the same cut. " It can-
not be helped, — apparently such is its fate," I thought,
and I picked up an axe myself and began to chop it with
the peasant.
It is a pleasure to do any work, and it is a pleasure to
chop. It is a pleasure to let the axe enter deeply in a
slanting line, and then to chop out the chip by a straight
stroke, and to chop farther and farther into the tree.
I had entirely forgotten the bird-cherry, and was think-
ing only of felling it as quickly as possible. When I got
tired, I put down my axe and with the peasant pressed
against the tree and tried to make it fall. We bent it :
the tree trembled with its leaves, and the dew showered
down upon us, and the white, fragrant petals of the blos-
soms fell down.
At the same time something seemed to cry, — the mid-
dle of the tree creaked ; we pressed against it, and it was
as though something wept, there was a crash in the middle,
174
NATURAL SCIENCE STORIES 175
and the tree tottered. It broke at the notch and, swaying,
fell with its branches and blossoms into the grass. The
twigs and blossoms trembled for awhile after the fall, and
stopped.
" It was a fine tree ! " said the peasant. " I am mightily
sorry for it ! "
I myself felt so sorry for it that I hurried away to the
other labourers.
HOW TREES WALK
One day we were cleaning an overgrown path on a hill-
ock near the pond. We cut down a lot of brier bushes,
willows, and poplars, — then came the turn of a bird-
cherry. It was growing on the path, and it was so old
and stout that it could not be less than ten years old.
And yet I knew that five years ago the garden had been
cleaned. I could not understand how such an old bird-
cherry could have grown out there. We cut it down and
went farther. Farther away, in another thicket, there
grew a similar bird-cherry, even stouter than the first. I
looked at its root, and saw that it grew under an old
linden. The linden with its branches choked it, and it
had stretched out about twelve feet in a straight line, and
only then came out to the light, raised its head, and began
to blossom.
I cut it down at the root, and was surprised to find it
so fresh, while the root was rotten. After we had cut
it down, the peasants and I tried to pull it off; but no
matter how much we jerked at it, we were unable to drag
it away : it seemed to have stuck fast. I said :
" Look whether it has not caught somewhere."
A workman crawled under it, and called out :
" It has another root ; it is out on the path ! "
I walked over to him, and saw that it was so.
Not to be choked by the linden, the bird-cherry had
gone away from underneath the linden out on the path,
about eight feet from its former root. The root which I
had cut down was rotten and dry, but the new one was
fresh. The bird-cherry had evidently felt that it could
176
NATURAL SCIENCE STORIES 177
not exist under the linden, so it had stretched out, dropped
a branch to the ground, made a root of that branch, and
left the other root. Only then did I understand how the
first bird-cherry had grown out on the road. It had evi-
dently done the same, — only it had had time to give up
the old root, and so 1 had not found it.
THE DECEMBRISTS
Fragments of a Novel
1863 -1878
THE DECEMBRISTS
A Novel
FIEST FRAGMENT
This happened not long ago, in the reign of Alexander
II., in our days of civilization, progress, questions, regen-
eration of Eussia, and so forth, and so forth ; at a time
when the victorious Russian army was returning from
Sevastopol, surrendered to the enemy ; when all of Russia
celebrated the annihilation of the Black Sea fleet, and
white-stoned Moscow received and congratulated with this
happy event the remainders of the crews of that fleet,
offering them a good Russian cup of vodka, and bread and
salt, according to the good Russian custom, and bowing
down to their feet. It was that time when Russia, in the
person of far-sighted virgin politicians, lamented the shat-
tered dream of a Te Deum in the Cathedral of St. Sophia,
and the loss of two great men, so painful for the country,
who had perished during the war (one, who had been
carried away by the desire to celebrate the Te Deum in
the above-mentioned cathedral at the earliest time possible,
and who fell in the fields of Wallachia, but who, at least,
left two squadrons of hussars in the same fields, and the
other, an unappreciated man, who had distributed tea,
181
182 THE DECEMBRISTS
other people's money, and bed-sheets to the wounded,
without steahng any of these things) ; that time, when on
all sides, in all branches of human activities, great men
— generals, administrators, economists, writers, orators,
and simply great men, without any especial calling or
purpose — sprang up in Russia hke mushrooms ; that
time, when, at the jubilee of a Moscow actor, there ap-
peared the public opinion, confirmed by a toast, which
began to rebuke all the criminals, — when menacing
commissions galloped south from St. Petersburg, to con-
vict and punish the evil-doers of the commissariat, —
when in all the cities dinners with speeches were given
to the heroes of Sevastopol, and when to them, with arms
and legs torn off, toasts were drunk, on meeting them on
the bridges and on the highways ; that time, when oratori-
cal talents developed so rapidly in the nation that a cer-
tain dram-shopkeeper everywhere and upon all occasions
wrote and printed and recited by rote at dinners such
strong speeches, that the guardians of the peace had to
take repressive measures against the dram-shopkeeper's
eloquence, — when in the very English club a special
room was set aside for the discussion of public matters,
— when periodicals sprang up under the most diversified
standards, — periodicals that evolved European principles
on a European basis, but with a Russian world concep-
tion, and periodicals on an exclusively Russian basis, but
with a European world conception, — when suddenly
there appeared so many periodicals that all names seemed
to be exbausted, — " The Messenger," and " The Word,"
and " The Speaker," and " The Observer," and " The Star,"
and " The Eagle," and many more, and, in spite of it, there
appeared ever new names ; that time, when the constella-
tion of philosophic writers made its appearance to prove
that science was national, and not national, and non-
national, and so forth, and the constellation of artistic
writers, who described a grove, and the sunrise, and a
THE DECEMBRISTS 183
storm, and the love of a Kussian maiden, and the indo-
lence of a certain official, and the bad conduct of many
officials ; that time, when on all sides appeared questions
(as in the year '56 they called every concourse of circum-
stances, of which no one could make any sense), questions
of cadet corps, universities, censorship, oral judicature,
finance, banking, police, emancipation, and many more :
— everybody tried to discover ever new questions, every-
body tried to solve them, wrote, read, spoke, made proj-
ects, wanted to mend everything, destroy, change, and all
Russians, like one man, were in indescribable ecstasy.
That is a state of affairs which has been twice repeated
in the Russia of the nineteenth century, — the first time,
when in the year '12 we repulsed Napoleon I., and the sec-
ond time, when in the year '56 we were repulsed by Napo-
leon III. Great, unforgettable time of the regeneration
of the Russian people ! Like the Frenchman who said
that he has not lived who has not lived through the great
French Revolution, I venture to say that he who has not
lived through the year '56 in Russia does not know
what life is. The writer of these hues not only lived
through that time, but was one of the actors of that
period. Not only did he pass several weeks in one of the
blindages of Sevastopol, but he also wrote a work on
the Crimean War, which brought him great fame, and in
which he described clearly and minutely how the soldiers
fired their guns from the bastions, how the wounds were
dressed at the ambulance, and how they buried people in
the cemetery. Having achieved these deeds, the writer
of these lines arrived in the centre of the empire, — a
rocket establishment, — where he cut the laurels for his
deeds. He saw the transports of the two capitals and of
the whole nation, and experienced in his person to what
extent Russia knew how to reward real deserts. The
mighty of this world sought his friendship, pressed his
hands, gave him dinners, urged him to come to their
184 THE DECEMBRISTS
houses, and, in order to learn the details of the war from
him, informed him of their own sentimentalities. Conse-
quently the writer of these lines can appreciate that great
and memorable time. But that is another matter.
At that very time, two vehicles on wheels and a sleigh
were standing at the entrance of the best Moscow hotel.
A young man ran through the door, to find out about
quarters. In one of the vehicles sat an old man with two
ladies. He was talking about the condition of Black-
smith Bridge in the days of the French. It was the
continuation of a conversation started as they entered
Moscow, and now the old man with the white beard, in
his unbuttoned fur coat, calmly continued his conversation
in the vehicle, as though he intended to stay in it over-
night. His wife and daughter listened to him, but kept
looking at the door with some impatience. The young
man emerged from the door with the porter and room
servant.
" Well, Sergy^y," asked the mother, thrusting her ema-
ciated face out into the glare of the lamplight.
Either because it was his habit, or because he did not
wish the porter to take him for a lackey on account of
the short fur coat which he wore, Sergy^y replied in
French that there were rooms to be had, and opened the
carriage door. The old man looked for a moment at his
son, and again turned to the dark corner of the vehicle,
as though nothing else concerned him :
" There was no theatre then."
" Pierre ! " said his wife, lifting her cloak ; but he con-
tinued :
" Madame Chalm^ was in Tverskaya Street — "
Deep in the vehicle could be heard a youthful, sono-
rous laugh.
" Papa, step out ! You are forgetting where we arc."
The old man only then seemed to recall that they had
arrived, and looked around him.
THE DECEMBRISTS 185
" Do step out ! "
He pulled his cap down, and submissively passed
through the door. The porter took him under his arm,
but, seeing that the old man was walking well, he at once
offered his services to the lady. Judging from the sable
cloak, and from the time it took for her to emerge, and
from the way she pressed down on his arm, and from the
way she, leaning on her son's arm, walked straight to-
ward the porch, without looking to either side, Natalya
Nikolaevna, his wife, seemed to the porter to be an im-
portant personage. He did not even separate the young
lady from the maids, who climbed out from the other
vehicle ; like them, she carried a bundle and a pipe, and
walked behind. He recognized her only by her laughing
and by her calling the old man father.
" Not that way, father, — to the right ! " she said, tak-
ing hold of the sleeve of his sheepskin coat. " To the
right."
On the staircase there resounded, through the noise of
the steps, the doors, and the heavy breathing of the
elderly lady, the same laughter which had been heard in
the vehicle, and about which any one who heard it
thought : " How excellently she laughs, — I just envy
her."
Their son, Sergy^y, had attended to all the material
conditions on the road, and, though he lacked knowledge
of the matter, he had attended to it with the energy and
self-satisfying activity which are characteristic of twenty-
five years of age. Some twenty times, and apparently for
no important reason, he ran down to the sleigh in his
greatcoat, and ran up-stairs again, shivering in the cold
and taking two or three steps at a time with his long,
youthful legs. Natalya Nikolaevna asked him not to
catch a cold, but he said that it was all right, and contin-
ued to give orders, slamming doors, and walking, and,
when it seemed that only the servants and peasants had
186 THE DECEMBRISTS
to be attended to, he several times walked through all
the rooms, leaving the drawing-room by one door, and
coming in through another, as though he were looking
for something else to do.
" Well, papa, will you be driven to the bath-house ?
rShall I find out ? " he asked.
His papa was deep in thought and, it seemed, was not
at all conscious of where he was. He did not answer at
once. He heard the words, but did not comprehend
them. Suddenly he comprehended.
" Yes, yes, yes. Find out, if you please, at Stone
Bridge."
The head of the family walked through the rooms with
hasty, agitated steps, and seated himself in a chair.
" Now we must decide what to do, how to arrange
matters," he said. " Help along, children, lively ! Like
good fellows, drag things around, put them up, and to-
morrow we shall send Ser^zha with a note to sister
Marya Ivanovna, to the Nikitius, or we shall go there our-
selves. Am I right, Natasha ? But now, fix things ! "
" To-morrow is Sunday. I hope, Pierre, that first of all
you will go to mass," said his wife, kneeling in front of a
trunk and opening it.
" That is so, it is Sunday ! We shall by all means all
of us go to the Cathedral of the Assumption. Thus will
our return begin. 0 Lord ! When I think of the day
when I was for the last time in the Cathedral of the As-
sumption ! Do you remember, Natasha ? But that is
another matter."
And the head of the family rose quickly from the chair,
on which he had just seated himself.
" Now we must settle down ! "
And without doing anything, he kept walking from one
room to another.
" Well, shall we drink tea ? Or are you tired, and
do you want to rest ? "
THE DECEMBRISTS 187
" Yes, yes," replied his wife, taking something out from
the trunk. " You wanted to go to the bath-house, did
you not ? "
" Yes — in my day it was near Stone Bridge. Ser^zha,
go and find out whether there is still a bath-house near
Stone Bridge. This room here Ser^zha and I shall oo-
cupy. Ser^zha ! *Will you be comfortable here ? "
But Ser^zha had gone to find out about the bath-house.
" No, that will not do," he continued. " You will not
have a straight passage to the drawing-room. What do
you think, Natasha ? "
" Calm yourself, Pierre, everything will come out all
right," Natasha said, from another room, where peasants
were bringing in things.
But Pierre was still under the influence of that ecstatic
mood which the arrival had evoked in him.
" Look there, — don't mix up Ser^zha's things ! You
have thrown his snow-shoes down in the drawing-room."
And he himself picked them up and with great care, as
though the whole future order of the quarters depended
upon it, leaned them against the door-post and tried to
make them stand there. But the snow-shoes did not stick
to it, and, the moment Pierre walked away from them,
fell with a racket across the door. Natalya Nikolaevna
frowned and shuddered, but, seeing the cause of the fall,
she said :
" Sonya, darling, pick them up ! "
" Pick them up, darling," repeated the husband, " and I
will go to the landlord, or else you will never get done,
I must talk things over with him."
" You had better send for him, Pierre. Why should
you trouble yourself ? "
Pierre assented,
" Sonya, bring him here, what do you call him ? M.
Cavalier, if you please. Tell him that we want to speak
about everything."
188 THE DECEMBRISTS
** Chevalier, papa," said Sonya, ready to go out.
Natalya Nikolaevna, who was giving her commands in
a soft voice, and was softly stepping from room to room,
now with a box, now with a pipe, now with a pillow,
imperceptibly finding places for a mountain of baggage, in
passing Sdnya, had time to whisper to her :
" Do not go yourself, but send a man ! "
While a man went to call the landlord, Pierre used his
leisure, under the pretext of aiding his consort, in crush-
ing a garment of hers and in stumbling against an empty
box. Steadying himself with his hand against the wall,
the Decembrist looked around with a smile ; but Sonya
was looking at him with such smiling eyes that she
seemed to be waiting for permission to laugh. He readily
granted her that permission, and himself burst out into
such a good-natured laugh that all those who were in the
room, his wife, the maids, and the peasants, laughed with
him. This laughter animated the old man still more.
He discovered that the divan in the room for his wife and
daughter was not standing very conveniently for them,
although they affirmed the opposite, and asked him to
calm himself. Just as he was trying with his own hands
to help a peasant to change the position of that piece of
furniture, the landlord, a Frenchman, entered the room.
" You sent for me," the landlord asked sternly and, in
proof of his indifference, if not contempt, slowly drew out
his handkerchief, slowly unfolded it, and slowly cleared
his nose.
" Yes, my dear sir," said Peter Ivanovich, stepping up
toward him, " you see, we do not know ourselves how
long we are going to stay here, I and my wife — " and
Peter Ivanovich, who had the weakness of seeing a neigh-
bour in every man, began to expound his plans and affairs
to him.
M. Chevalier did not share that view of people and
was not interested in the information communicated to
THE DECEMBKISTS 189
him by Peter Ivauovich, but the good French which
Peter Ivanovich spoke (the French language, as is known,
is something Hke rank in Eussia) and his lordly manner
somewhat raised the landlord's opinion about the new-
comers.
" What can I do for you ? " he asked.
This question did not embarrass Peter Ivanovich. He
expressed his desire to have rooms, tea, a samovar, supper,
dinner, food for the servants, in short, all those things for
which hotels exist, and when M. Chevalier, marvelhng at
the innocence of the old man, who apparently imagined
that he was in the Trukhm^n steppe, or supposed that all
these things would be given him without pay, informed
him that he could have all those things, Peter Ivanovich
was in ecstasy.
" Now that is nice ! Very nice ! And so we shall get
things all fixed. Well, then please — " but he felt embar-
rassed to be speaking all the time about himself, and he
began to ask M. Chevalier about his family and his busi-
ness. When Sergy^y Petrovich returned to the room, he
did not seem to approve of his father's address ; he observed
the landlord's dissatisfaction, and reminded his father
of the bath. But Peter Ivanovich was interested in the
question of how a French hotel could be run in Mos-
cow in the year '56, and of how Madame Chevalier
passed her time. Finally the landlord himself bowed
and asked him whether he was not pleased to order any-
thing.
" We will have tea, Natasha. Yes ? Tea, then, if you
please ! We will have some other talks, my dear mon-
sieur ! What a charming man ! "
" And the bath, papa ? "
" Oh, yes, then we shall have no tea."
Thus the only result from the conversation with the
newly arrived guests was taken from the landlord. But
Peter Ivdnovich was now proud and happy of his arrange-
190 THE DECEMBRISTS
ments. The drivers, who came to ask a pourloire, vexed
him, because Ser^zha had no change, and Peter Ivanovich
was on the point of sending once more for the landlord,
but the happy thought that others, too, ought to be happy
on that evening helped him out of that predicament. He
took two three-rouble bills, and, sticking one bill into the
hand of one of the drivers, he said, " This is for you "
(Peter Ivanovich was in the habit of saying " you " to all
without exception, unless to a member of his family) ;
" and this is for you," he said, transferring the other bill
from the palm of his hand to that of the driver, in some
such manner as people do when paying a doctor for a
visit. After attending to all these things, he was taken
to the bath-house.
S6nya, who was sitting on the divan, put her hand
under her head and burst out laughing.
" Oh, how nice it is, mamma ! Oh, how nice ! "
Then she placed her feet on the divan, stretched her-
self, adjusted herself, and fell into the sound, calm sleep
of a healthy girl of eighteen years of age, after six weeks
on the road. Natalya Nikolaevna, who was still busy
taking out things in her sleeping-room, . heard, no doubt
with her maternal ear, that Sonya was not stirring, and
went out to take a look at her. She took a pillow and,
raising the girl's reddened, dishevelled head with her large
white hand, placed her on the pillow. Sonya drew a
deep, deep sigh, shrugged her shoulders, and put her head
on the pillow, without saying " Merci" as though that had
all been done of its own accord.
" Not on that bed, not on that, Gavrilovna, Katya,"
Natalya Nikolaevna immediately turned to the maids who
were making a bed, and with one hand, as though in
passing, she adjusted the straying hair of her daughter.
Without stopping and without hurrying, Natalya Niko-
Mevna dressed herself, and upon the arrival of her husband
and her son everything was ready : the trunks were no
THE DECEMBRISTS 191
longer in the rooms ; in Pierre's sleeping-room everything
was arranged as it had been for several decades in
Irkutsk : the morning-gown, the pipe, the tobacco-pouch,
the sugared water, the Gospel, which he read at night,
and even the image stuck to the rich wall-paper in the
rooms of Chevalier, who never used such adornments,
but on that evening they appeared in all the rooms of
the third division of the hotel.
Having dressed herself, Natalya Nikolaevna adjusted
her collar and cuffs, which, in spite of the journey, were
still clean, combed herself, and seated herself opposite the
table. Her beautiful black eyes gazed somewhere into
the distance : she looked and rested herself. She seemed
to be resting, not from the unpacking alone, nor from the
road, nor from the oppressive years, - — she seemed to be
resting from her whole life, and the distance into which
she was gazing, and in which she saw hving and beloved
faces, was that rest which she was wishing for. Whether
it was an act of love, which she had done for her husband,
or the love which she had experienced for her children
when they were young, or whether it was a heavy loss, or
a peculiarity of her character, — everyone who looked at
that woman could not help seeing that nothing could be
expected from her, that she had long ago given all of her-
self to Hfe, and that nothing was left of her. All that
there was left was something worthy of respect, something
beautiful and sad, as a reminiscence, as the moonhght.
She could not be imagined otherwise than surrounded by
all the comforts of hfe. It was impossible for her ever to
be hungry, or to eat eagerly, or to have on soiled clothes,
or to stumble, or to forget to clear her nose. It was a
physical impossibility. Why it was so, I do not know,
but every motion of hers was dignity, grace, gentleness
toward all those who could enjoy her sight.
" Sie pflegen und weben
Himmlische Rosen ins irdische Leben."
192 THE DECEMBRISTS
She knew those verses and loved them, but was not
guided by them. All her nature was an expression of
that thought ; all her life was this one unconscious weav-
ing of invisible roses in the lives of those with whom she
came in contact. She had followed her husband to Sibe-
ria only because she loved him ; she had not thought
what she could do for him, and instinctively had done
everythiug. She had made his bed, had put away his
things, had prepared his dinner and his tea, and, above all,
had always been where he was, and no woman could have
given more happiness to her husband.
In the drawing-room the samovar was boiling on the
round table. Natalya Nikolaevna sat near it. Sonya
wrinkled her face and smiled under her mother's hand,
which was tickling her, when father and son, with wrin-
kled finger-tips and glossy cheeks and foreheads (the
father's bald spot was particularly glistening), with fluffy
white and black hair, and with beaming countenances,
entered the room.
" It has grown brighter since you have come in," said
Natalya Nikolaevna. " O Lord, how white you are ! "
She had been saying that each Saturday, for several
decades, and each Saturday Pierre experienced bash ful-
ness and delight, whenever he heard that. They seated
themselves at the table ; there was an odour of tea and
of the pipe, and there were heard the voices of the par-
ents, the children, and the servants, who received their cups
in the same room. They recalled everything funny that
had happened on the road, admired Sonya's hair-dressing,
and laughed. Geographically they were all transferred a
distance of five thousand versts, into an entirely different,
strange milieu, but morally they were that evening still
at home, just such as the peculiar, long, solitary family
life had made them to be. It will not be so to-morrow.
Peter Ivanovich seated himself near the samovar, and
lighted his pipe. He was not in a cheerful mood.
THE DECEMBRISTS 193
" So here we are," he said, " and I am glad that we shall
not see any one to-night; this is the last evening we
shall pass with the family," and he washed these words
down with a large mouthful of tea.
" Why the last, Pierre ? "
" Why ? Because the eaglets have learned to fly, and
they have to make their own nests, and from here they
will fly each in a different direction — "
" What nonsense ! " said Sonya, taking his glass from
him, and smiling at him, as she smiled at everything.
" The old nest is good enough ! "
" The old nest is a sad nest ; the old man did not know
how to make it, — he was caught in a cage, and in the
cage he reared his young ones, and was let out only when
his wings no longer would hold him up. No, the eaglets
must make their nests higher up, more auspiciously, nearer
to the sun ; that is what they are his children for, that his
example might serve them ; but the old one will look on,
so long as he is not blind, and will listen, when he becomes
blind — Pour in some rum, more, more — enough ! "
" We shall see who is going to leave," replied Sonya,
casting a cursory glance at her mother, as though she
felt uneasy speaking in her presence. " We shall see who
is going to leave," she continued. " I am not afraid for
myself, neither am I for Ser^zha." (Ser^zha was walking
up and down in the room, thinking of how clothes would be
ordered for him to-morrow, and wondering whether he had
better go to the tailor, or send for him ; he was not inter-
ested in Sonya's conversation with his father.) Sonya
began to laugh.
" What is the matter ? What ? " asked her father.
" You are younger than we, papa. Much younger, in-
deed," she said, again bursting out into a laugh.
" Indeed ! " said the old man, and his austere wrinkles
formed themselves into a gentle, and yet contemptuous,
smile.
194 THE DECEMBRISTS
Natalya Nikolaevna bent away from the samovar
which prevented her seeing her husband.
" Souya is right. You are still sixteen years old,
Pierre. Ser^zha is younger in feelings, but you are
younger in soul. I can foresee what he will do, but you
will astound me yet."
Whether he recognized the justice of this remark, or
was flattered by it, he did not know what reply to make,
and only smoked in silence, drank his tea, and beamed
with his eyes. But Ser(^zha, with characteristic egoism
of youth, interested in what M-as said about him, entered
into the conversation and affirmed that he was really old,
that his arrival in Moscow and the new life, which was
opening before him, did not gladden him in the least, and
that he calmly reflected on the future and looked forward
toward it.
" Still, it is the last evening," repeated Peter Ivanovich.
" It will not be again to-morrow."
And he poured a little more rum into his glass. He
sat for a long time at the tea-table, with an expression as
though he w^ished to say many things, but had no hearers.
He moved up the rum toward him, but his daughter softly
carried away the bottle.
II.
When M. Chevalier, who had been up-stairs to look
after his guests, returned to his room and gave the benefit
of his observations on the newcomers to his life companion,
in laces and a silk garment, who in Parisian fashion was
sitting back of the counter, several habitual visitors of the
establishment were sitting in the room. Serezha, who
had been down-stairs, had taken notice of that room and
of its visitors. If you have been in Moscow, you have,
no doubt, noticed that room yourself.
If you, a modest man who do not know Moscow, have
missed a dinner to which you are invited, or have made
THE DECEMBRISTS 195
a mistake in your calculations, imagining that the hos-
pitable Muscovites would invite you to dinner, or simply
wish to dine in the best restaurant, you enter the lackeys'
room. Three or four lackeys jump up : one of them
takes off your fur coat and congratulates you on the occa-
sion of the New Year, or of the Butter-week, or of your
arrival, or simply remarks that you have not called for a
long while, though you have never been in that establish-
ment before.
You enter, and the first thing that strikes your eyes is
a table set, as you in the first moment imagine, with an
endless quantity of palatable dishes. But that is only
an optical illusion, for the greater part of that table is
occupied by pheasants in feather, raw lobsters, boxes v/ith
perfume and pomatum, and bottles with cosmetics and
candy. Only at the very edge, if you look well, will you
find the vodka and a piece of bread with butter and
sardines, under a wire globe, which is quite useless in
Moscow in the month of December, even though it is
precisely such as those which are used in Paris. Then,
beyond the table, you see the room, where behind a counter
sits a Frenchwoman, of extremely repulsive exterior, but
wearing the cleanest of gloves and a most exquisite,
fashionable gown. Near the Frenchwoman you will see
an officer in unbuttoned uniform, taking a dram of vodka,
a civilian reading a newspaper, and somebody's military
ov civilian legs lying on a velvet chair, and you will
hear French conversation, and more or less sincere, loud
laughter.
If you wish to know what is going on in that room, I
should advise you not to enter within, but only to look in,
as though merely passing by to take a sandwich. Other-
wise you will feel ill at ease from the interrogative silence
and glances, and you will certainly take your tail between
your legs and skulk away to one of the tables in the
large hall, or to the winter garden. Nobody will keep
196 THE DECEMBRISTS
you from doing so. These tables are for everybody, and
there, in your solitude, you may call Dey a gargoii,
and order as many truffles as you please. The room with
the Frenchwoman, however, exists for the select, golden
Moscow youth, and it is not so easy to find your way
among the select as you imagine.
On returning to this room, M. Chevalier told his wife
that the gentleman from Siberia was dull, but that his
son and daughter were fine people, such as could be raised
only in Siberia.
" You ought just to see the daughter ! She is a little
rose-bush ! "
" Oh, this old man is fond of fresh-looking women,"
said one of the guests, who was smoking a cigar. (The
conversation, of course, was carried on in French, but I
render it in Eussian, as I shall continue to do in this
story.)
" Oh, I am very fond of them ! " replied M. Chevalier.
" Women are my passion. Do you not believe me ? "
" Do you hear, Madame Chevalier ? " shouted a stout
officer of Cossacks, who owed a big bill in the institution
and was fond of chatting with the landlord.
" He shares my taste," said M. Chevalier, patting the
stout man on his epaulet.
" And is this Siberian young lady really pretty ? "
M. Chevalier folded his fingers and kissed them.
After that the conversation between the guests became
confidential and very jolly. They were talking about the
stout officer; he smiled as he listened to what they were
saying about him.
" How can one have such perverted taste ! " cried one,
through the laughter. " Mile. Clarisse ! You know,
Strugov prefers such of the women as have chicken
calves."
Though Mile. Clarisse did not understand the salt of
that remark, she behind her counter burst out into a
THE DECEMBRISTS 197
laughter as silvery as her bad teeth and advanced years
permitted.
" Has the Siberian lady turned him to such thoughts ? "
and she laughed more heartily still. M. Chevalier him-
seK roared with laughter, as he said :
" Ce vieux coquin" patting the officer of Cossacks on
his head and shoulders.
" But who are they, those Siberians ? Mining pro-
prietors or merchants ? " one of the gentlemen asked,
during a pause in the laughter.
" Nikita, ask ze passport from ze chentleman zat as
come," said M. Chevaher.
" We, Alexander, ze Autocrat — " M. Chevalier began
to read the passport, which had been brought in the mean-
time, but the officer of Cossacks tore it out of his hands,
and his face expressed surprise.
" Guess who it is," he said, " for you all know him by
reputation."
" How can we guess ? Show it to us ! Well, Abdel
Kader, ha, ha, ha ! Well, Cagliostro — Well, Peter III.
— ha, ha, ha, ha ! "
" Well, read it ! "
The officer of Cossacks unfolded the paper and read
the name of him who once had been Prince Peter Ivano-
vich, and the family name which everybody knows and
pronounces with a certain respect and pleasure, when
speaking of a person bearing that name, as of a near and
familiar person. We shall call him Labazov. The officer
of Cossacks had a dim recollection that this Peter Labazov
had been something important in the year '25, and that
he had been sent to hard labour, — but what he had been
famous for, he did not exactly know. But of the others
not one knew anything about him, and they replied :
" Oh, yes, the famous prince," just as they would have
said, " Of course, he is famous ! " about Shakespeare, who
had written the " ^ueid." But they recognized him from
198 THE DECEMBRISTS
the explanations of the stout officer, who told them that
he was a brotlier of Prince Ivan, an uncle of the Chikins,
of Countess Prut, in short, the well-known —
"He must be very rich, if he is a brother of Prince
Ivan," remarked one of the young men, " if the fortune
has been returned to him. It has been returned to
some."
" What a lot of exiles are returning nowadays ! " re-
marked another. " Eeally, fewer seem to have been sent
away, than are returning now. Zhikinski, tell us that
story of the 18th ! " he turned to an officer of sharp-
shooters, who had the reputation of being a good story-
teller.
« Do tell it ! "
"In the first place, it is a true story, and happened
here, at Chevalier's, in the large hall. Three Decembrists
came to have their dinner. They were sitting at one
table, eating, drinking, talking. Opposite them sat down
a gentleman of respectable mien, of about the same
age, and he listened to their talking about Siberia. He
asked them something, they exchanged a few words,
began to converse, and it turned out that he, too, was
from Siberia.
" ' And do yon know Nerchinsk ? '
" * Indeed I do, I lived there.'
" * And do you know Tatyana Ivanovna ? '
" ' Of course I do ! '
"'Permit me to ask you, -—were you, too, exiled ?'
" * Yes, I had the misfortune to suffer, and you ? '
"'We are all exiles of the 14th of December. It is
strange that we should not know you, if you, too, were
exiled for the 14th. Permit me to know your name 1'
" * F^dorov.'
"'Also for the 14th?'
"'No, for the 18th.'
♦"For the I8th?'
THE DECEMBRISTS 199
"'For the 18th of September, for a gold watch. I
was falsely accused of haviug stolen it, and I suffered,
though innocent.' "
All of them rolled in laughter, except the story-teller,
who with a most serious face looked at the outstretched
hearers and swore that it was a true story.
Soon after the story one of the young men got up and
went to the club. He passed through the halls which
were filled with tables at which old men were playing
whist ; turned into the " infernal region," where the
famous " Pucliin " had begun his game against the " com-
pany ; " stood for awhile near one of the bilKard- tables,
where, holding on to the cushion, a distinguished old
man was fumbling around and with difficulty striking a
ball ; looked into the library, where a general, holding a
newspaper a distance away from him, was reading it
slowly above his glasses, and a registered young man
turned the leaves of one periodical after another, trying
to make no noise ; and finally seated himself on a divan
in the billiard-room, near some young people who were
playing pyramids, and who were as much gilded as he
was.
It was a day of dinners, and there were there many
gentlemen who always frequented the club. Among
them was Ivan Vavilovich Pakhtin. He was a man of
about forty years of age, of medium stature, fair-com-
plexioned, with broad shoulders and hips, with a bare
head, and a glossy, happy, clean-shaven face. He was
not yjlaying at pyramids, but had just sat down beside
Prince D , with whom he was on " thou " terms, and
had accepted a glass of champagne which had been
offered to him. He had located himself so comfortably
after the dinner, having quietly unbuckled his trousers at
the back, that it looked as though he could sit there all
his Hfe, smoking a cigar, drinking champagne, and feeling
the proximity of princes, counts, and the children of
200 THE DECEMBRISTS
ministers. The news of the arrival of the Labazovs
interfered with his calm.
" Where are you going, Pakhtin," said a minister's son,
having noticed during the game that Pakhtin had got up,
pulled his waistcoat down, and emptied his champagne in
a large gulp.
" Sy^vernikov has invited me," said Pakhtin, feeling a
restlessness in his legs. " Well, will you go there ? "
" Anastasya, Anastasya, please unlock the door for me."
That was a well-known gipsy-song, which was in vogue
at that time.
" Perhaps. And you ? "
" Where shall I, an old married man, go ? "
« Well ! "
Pakhtin, smiling, went to the glass hall, to join Sy^-
vernikov. He was fond of having his last word appear
to be a joke. And so it came out at that time, too.
" Well, how is the countess's health ? " he asked, walk-
ing over to Sy^vernikov, wlio had not called him at all,
but who, according to Pakhtin's surmise, should more
than any one else learn of the arrival of the Labazovs.
Sy^vernikov had somehow been mixed up with the affair
of the 14th, and was a friend of the Decembrists. The
countess's health was much better, and Pakhtin was very
glad to hear it.
" Do you know, Labazov has arrived ; he is staying at
Chevalier's."
" You don't say so ! We are old friends. How glad I
am ! How glad ! The poor old fellow must have grown
old. His wife wrote to my wife — "
But Sy^vernikov did not finish saying what it was she
had written, because his partners, who were playing with-
out trumps, had made some mistake. While speaking
with Ivan Pavlovich, he kept an eye on them, and now
he leaned forward with his whole body against the table,
and, thumping it with his hands, he tried to prove that
THE DECEMBRISTS 201
they ought to have played from the seven. Ivan P^vlo-
vich got up and, going up to another table, in the middle
of a conversation informed another worthy gentleman of
his bit of news, again got up, and repeated the same at a
third table. The worthy gentlemen were all glad to hear
of the arrival of the Labazovs, so that, upon returning to
the billiard-room, Ivan Pavlovich, who at first had had
his misgivings about whether he had to rejoice in the
return of the Labazovs, or not, no longer started with an
introduction about the ball, about an article in the Mes-
senger, about health, or weather, but approached every-
body directly with the enthusiastic announcement of the
safe return of the famous Decembrist.
The old man, who was still vainly endeavouring to hit
the white ball with his cue, would, in Pakhtin's opinion,
be very much delighted to hear the news. He went up
to him.
" Are you playing well, your Excellency ? " he said,
just as the old man stuck his cue into the marker's red
waistcoat, wishing to indicate that it had to be chalked.
" Your Excellency " was not said, as you might think,
from a desire of being subservient (no, that was not the
fashion in '56). Ivan Pavlovich was in the habit of call-
ing the old man by his name and patronymic, but this
was said partly as a joke on men who spoke that way,
partly in order to liint that he knew full well to whom
he was talking, and yet was taking liberties, and partly
in truth : altogether it was a very dehcate jest.
" I have just learned that Peter Labazov has returned.
Straight from Siberia, with his whole family."
These words Pakhtin pronounced just as the old man
again missed his ball, for such was his bad luck.
"If he has returned as cracked as he went away, there
is no cause for rejoicing," gruffly said the old man, who
was irritated by his incomprehensible failure.
This statement vexed Ivan Pavlovich, and again he
202 THE DECEMBRISTS
was at a loss whether there was any cause for rejoicing at
Labazov's return, and, in order fully to settle his doubt,
he directed his steps to a room, where generally assem-
bled the clever people, who knew the meaning and value
of each thing, and, in short, knew everything. Ivan
Pavlovich was on the same footing of friendship with
the frequenters of the intellectual room as with the
gilded youths and with the dignitaries. It is true, he
had no special place of his own in the intellectual room,
but nobody was surprised to see him enter and seat him-
self on a divan. They were just discussing in what year
and upon what occasion there had taken place a quarrel
between two Eussian journalists. Waiting for a moment
of silence, Ivan Pavlovich comnumicated his bit of news,
not as something joyous, nor as an unimportant event,
but as though part of the conversation. But immedi-
ately, from the way the " intellectuals " (I use the word
" intellectuals " as a name for the frequenters of the
" intellectual " room) received the news and began to
discuss it, Ivan Pavlovich understood that it belonged
there, and that only there would it receive such an elabo-
ration as to enable him to carry it farther and savoir d,
quoi s'en tenir.
" Labazov was the only one who was wanting," said
one of the intellectuals ; " now all the living Decembrists
have returned to Russia."
" He was one of the herd of the famous — " said Pakh-
tin, still with an inquisitive glance, prepared to make that
quotation both jocular and serious.
" Indeed, Labazov was one of the most remarkable men
of that time," began an intellectual. "In 1819 he was
an ensign of the Sem^novski regiment, and was sent
abroad with messages to Duke Z . Then he returned
and in the year '24 was received in the First Masonic
lodge. The Masons of that time used all to gather at
the house of D and at his house. He was very
THE DECEMBRISTS 203
rich. Prince Zh , F^dor D , Ivan P , those
were his nearest friends. Then his uncle, Prince Visariou,
to remove the young man from that society, took him to
Moscow."
" Pardon me, Nikolay Stepanovich," another intellectual
interrupted him, " it seems to me that that happened in
the year '23, because Visarion Labazov was appointed a
commander of the Third Corps in '24, and was then in
Warsaw. He had offered him an adjutantship, and after
his refusal, he was removed. However, pardon me for
interrupting you."
" Not at all. Proceed ! "
" Pardon me ! "
" Proceed ! You ought to know that better than I, and,
besides, your memory and knowledge have been sufficiently
attested here."
" In Moscow he against his uncle's will left the army,"
continued the one whose memory and knowledge had
been attested, " and there he gathered around him a
second society, of which he was the progenitor and the
heart, if it be possible so to express it. He was rich,
handsome, clever, educated ; they say he v/as exceedingly
amiable. My aunt used to tell me that she did not know
a more bewitching man. Here he married Miss Krinski, a
few months before the revolt broke out."
" The daughter of Nikolay Krinski, the one of Borodino
fame, you know," somebody interrupted him.
" Well, yes. Her immense fortune he still possesses,
but his own paternal estate passed over to his younger
brother. Prince Ivan, who is now Ober-Hof-Kaffermeister "
(he gave him some such name) " and was a minister."
" The best thing is what he did for his brother," con-
tinued the narrator. " When he was arrested, there was
one thing which he succeeded in destroying, and that
was his brother's letters and documents."
" Was his brother mixed up in it, too ? "
204 THE DECEMBRISTS
The narrator did not say " Yes," but compressed his
lips and gave a significant wink.
" Then, during all the inquests Peter Labazov kept
denying everything which concerned his brother, and so
suffered more than the rest. But the best part of it is that
Prince Ivan got all the property, and never sent a penny
to his brother."
" They say that Peter Labazov himself dechned it,"
remarked one of the hearers.
" Yes ; but he declined it only because Prince Ivan
wrote him before the coronation, excusing himself and
saying that if he had not taken it, it would have been
confiscated, and that he had children and debts, and that
now he was unable to return it to him. Peter Labazov
replied to him in two lines : ' Neither I nor my heirs
have any right, nor can have any right, to the property
legally appropriated by you.' That was all. How was
that ? And Prince Ivan swallowed it, and in delight
locked up that document with the notes in a safe, and
showed it to no one."
One of the peculiarities of the intellectual room was
that its visitors knew, whenever they wanted to know,
everything that was taking place in the world, no matter
how secret the event might have been.
" Still it is a question," said a new interlocutor, " whether
it was just to deprive the children of Prince Ivan of the
property, with which they have grown up and have been
educated, and to which they thought they had a right."
Thus the conversation was transferred to an abstract
sphere, which did not interest Pakhtin.
He felt the necessity of communicating the news to
fresh people, and so he rose and, speaking to the right
and to the left, walked from one hall to another. One
of his fellow officers stopped him to give him the news of
Labazov's arrival.
" Who does not know that ? " replied Ivan Pavlovich,
THE DECEMBKISTS 205
with a calm smile, turning to the exit. The news had
had time to complete its circle, and was again returning
to him.
There was nothing else to do in the club, and he went
to an evening party. It was not a special entertainment,
but a salon where guests were received any evening.
There were there eight ladies, and one old colonel, and all
found it terribly dull. Pakhtia's firm gait alone and his
smihng face cheered the ladies and maidens. And the
news was the more appropriate, since the old Countess
¥uks and her daughter were present in the salon. When
Pakhtin told nearly word for word what he had heard in
the intellectual room, Madame Fuks, shaking her head
and marvelling at her old age, began to recall how she
used to go out together with Natasha Krinski, the present
Princess Labazov.
" Her marriage is a very romantic story, and all that
happened under my eyes. Natasha was almost engaged
to Myatlin, who was later killed in a duel with Debras.
Just then Prince Peter arrived in Moscow, fell in love
with her, and proposed to her. But her father, who
wanted Myatlin very much, — they were, in general,
afraid of Labazov because he was a Mason, — refused
him. The young man continued to see her at balls, every-
where, and became friendly with Myatlin, whom he begged
to decline. Aiyatlin agreed to do so, and he persuaded
her to elope. She, too, agreed, but the last repentance
" (the conversation was taking place in French),
" and she went to her father and said that everything was
ready for the elopement, and she could leave him, but
hoped for his magnanimity. And, indeed, her father for-
gave her, — everybody begged for her, — and gave his
consent. Thus the wedding was celebrated, and it was a
jolly wedding ! Wlio of us thought that a year later she
would follow him to Siberia ! She, an only daughter,
the most beautiful, the richest woman of that time. Em-
206 THE DECEMBRISTS
peror Alexander always used to notice her at balls, and
had danced with her so often. Countess G gave a
bal costume, — I remember it as though it were to-day, —
and she was a Neapolitan maid, oh, so charming ! When-
ever he came to Moscow, he used to ask, ' que fait la
belle Napolitainc ? ' And suddenly this woman, in such
a condition (she bore a child on the way), did not stop
for a moment to think, without preparing anything, with-
out collecting her things, just as she was, when they took
him, followed him a distance of five thousand versts."
" Oh, what a remarkable woman !" said the hostess.
" Both he and she were remarkable people," said another
lady. "I have been told, — I don't know whether it is
true, — that wherever they worked in the mines in Siberia,
or whatever it is called, the convicts, who were with them,
improved in their presence."
" But she has never worked in the mines," Paklitin cor-
rected her.
How much that year '56 meant! Three years before
no one had been thinking of the Labazovs, and if any
one recalled them, it was with that unaccountable feeling
of dread with which one speaks of one lately dead ; but
now they vividly recalled all the former relations, all the
beautiful qualities, and each lady was making a plan for
getting the monopoly of the Labazovs, in order to treat
the other guests to them.
" Their son and their daughter have come with them,"
said Pakhtin.
" If they are only as handsome as their mother used to
be," said Countess Fuks. " Still, their father, too, was
very, very handsome."
" How could they educate their children there ? " asked
the hostess.
" They say, nicely. They say that the young man is
as nice, as amiable, and as cultured as though he had been
brought up in Paris."
THE DECEMBRISTS ^U/
*' I predict great success to that young person," said a
homely spinster. " All those Siberian ladies have some-
thing pleasantly trivial about them, which everybody,
however, hkes."
" Yes, yes," said another spinster.
" Here we have another rich prospective bride," said a
third spinster.
The old colonel, of German origin, who had come to
Moscow three years before, in order to marry a rich girl,
decided as quickly as possible, before the young people
knew anything about it, to present himself and propose.
But the spinsters and ladies thought almost the same
about the young Siberian.
"' No doubt that is the one I am destined to marry,"
thought a spinster who had been going out for eight
years.
" No doubt it was for the best that that stupid officer
of the Chevalier Guards did not propose to me. I should
certainly have been unhappy."
" Well, they ^vill again grow yellow with envy, if this
one, too, falls in love with me," thought a young and
pretty lady.
We hear much about the provincialism of small towns,
— but there is nothing worse than the provinciahsm of
the upper classes. There are no new persons there, and
society is prepared to receive all kinds of new persons, if
they should make their appearance ; but they are rarely,
very rarely, recognized as belonging to their circle and
accepted, as was the case with the Labazovs, and the sen-
sation produced by them is stronger than in a provincial
town.
III.
" This is Moscow, white-stoned Mother Moscow," said
Peter Iv^novich, rubbing his eyes in the morning, and
hstening to the tolling of the bells which was proceeding
208 THE DECEMBRISTS
from Gazette Lane. Nothing so vividly resurrects the past
as sounds, and these sounds of the Moscow bells, combined
with the sight of a white wall opposite the window, and
with the rumbling of wheels, so vividly reminded him not
only of the Moscow which he had known thirty-tive
years before, but also of the Moscow with the Kremlin,
with the palaces, with Ivan the bell, and so forth, which
he had been carrying in his heart, that he experienced a
childish joy at being a Eussian, and in Moscow.
There appeared the Bukhara morning-gown, wide open
over the broad chest with its chintz shirt, the pipe with
its amber, the lackey with soft manners, tea, the odour of
tobacco; a loud male voice was heard in Chevalier's apart-
ments ; there resounded the morning kisses, and the
voices of daughter and son, and the Decembrist was as
much at home as in Irkutsk, and as he would have been
in New York or in Paris.
No matter how much I should like to present to my
readers the Decembrist hero above all foibles, I must con-
fess, for truth's sake, that Peter Ivanovieh took great
pains in shaving and combing himself, and in looking at
himself in the mirror. He was dissatisfied with the gar-
ments, which had been made in Siberia with little elegance,
and two or three times he buttoned aud unbuttoned his
coat.
But Natalya Nikolaevua entered the drawing-room,
rustling with her black moire gown, with mittens and with
ribbons in her cap, which, though not according to the
latest fashion, were so arranged that, far from making her
appear ridicule, they made her look distinguee. For this
ladies have a special sixth sense and perspicacity, which
cannot be compared to anything.
Sonya, too, was so dressed that, although she was two
years behind in fashion, she could not be reproached in
any way. On her mother everything was dark and sim-
ple, and on the daughter bright and cheerful.
THE DECEMBRISTS 209
Sar^zha had just awakened, and so they went by them-
selves to mass. Father and mother sat in the back seat,
and their daughter was opposite them. Vasili climbed on
the box, and the hired carriage took them to the Kremlin.
When they got out of the carriage, the ladies adjusted
their robes, and Peter Ivanovich took the arm of his
Natalya Nikolaevna, and, throwing back his head, walked
up to the door of the church. Many people, merchants,
officers, and everybody else, could not make out what
kind of people they were.
Who was that old man VTith his old sunburnt, and
still unblanched face, with the large, straight work
wrinkles of a peculiar fold, different from the wrinkles
acquired in the Enghsh club, with snow-white hair and
beard, with a good, proud glance e^nd energetic move-
ments ? Who was that tall lady with that determined
gait, and those weary, dimmed, large, beautiful eyes ?
Who was that fresh, stately, strong young lady, neither
fashionable, nor timid ? Merchants ? No, no merchants.
Germans ? No, no Germans. Gentlefolk ? No, they are
different, — they are distinguished people. Thus thought
those who saw them in church, and for some reason
more readily and cheerfully made way for them than for
men in thick epaulets. Peter Ivanovich bore himself just
as majestically as at the entrance, and prayed quietly,
with reserve, and without forgetting himself. Natalya
Nikolaevna glided down on her knees, took out a hand-
kerchief, and wept much during the cherubical song.
Sony a seemed to be making an effort over herself in
order to pray. Devotion did not come to her, but she
did not look around, and diligently made the signs of the
cross.
Ser^zha stayed at home, partly because he had over-
slept himself, partly because he did not like to stand
through a mass, which made his legs faint, — a matter he
was unable to understand, since it was a mere trifle for
210 THE DECEMBRISTS
him to walk forty miles on snow-shoes, whereas standing
through twelve pericopes was tlje greatest physical tor-
ture for him, — but chiefly because he felt that more
than anything he needed a new suit of clothes. He
dressed himself and went to Blacksmith Bridge. He had
plenty of money. His father had made it a rule, ever
since his sou had passed his twenty-first year, to let him
have as much money as he wished. It lay with him to
leave his parents entirely without mouey.
How sorry I am for the 250 roubles which he threw
away in Kuntz's shop of ready-made clothes ! Any oue
of the gentlemen who met Serezha would have been only
too happy to show him arouud, and would have regarded
it as a piece of happiness to go with him to get his
clothes made. But, as it was, he was a stranger in the
crowd, and, making his way iu his cap along Blacksmith
Bridge, he went to the end, without looking into the
shops, opened the door, and came out from it in a cinna-
mon-coloured half-dress coat, which was tight (though at
that time they wore wide coats), and in loose black trou-
sers (though they wore tight trousers), and in a flowery
atlas waistcoat, which not one of the gentlemen, who
were in Chevalier's special room, w^ould have allowed
their lackeys to wear, and bought a number of other
things ; on the other hand, Kuntz marvelled at the young
man's slender waist, the like of which, as he explained to
everybody, he had never seen. Ser(5zha knew that he
had a beautiful waist, and he was very much flattered by
the praise of a stranger, such as Kuntz was.
He came out with 250 roubles less, but was dressed
badly, in fact so badly that his apparel tw^o days later
passed over into Vasili's possession and always remained
a disagreeable memory for Serezha.
At home he went down-stairs, seated himself in the
large hall, looking now and then into the sanctum, and
ordered a breakfast of such strange dishes tliat the serv-
THE DECEMBRISTS 211
ant in the kitchen had to laugh. Then he asked for a
periodical, and pretended to be reading. When the serv-
ant, encouraged by the inexperience of the young man,
addressed some questions to him, Serezha said, " Go to
your place ! " and blushed. But he said this so proudly
that the servant obeyed. Mother, father, and daughter,
upon returning home, found his clothes excellent.
Do you remember that joyous sensation of childhood,
when you were dressed up for your name-day and taken
to mass, and when, upon returning with a holiday expres-
sion in your clothes, upon your countenance, and in your
soul, you found toys and guests at home ? You knew
that on that day there would be no classes, that even the
grown-ups celebrated on that day, and that that was a
day of exceptions and pleasures for the whole house ; you
knew that you alone were the cause of that holiday, and
that you would be forgiven, no matter what you might do,
and you were surprised to see that the people in the
streets did not celebrate along with your home folk, and
the sounds were more audible, and the colours brighter,
— in short, a name-day sensation. It was a sensation of
that kind that Peter Ivanovich experienced on his return
from church.
Pakhtin's solicitude of the evening before did not pass
in vain : instead of toys Peter Ivanovich found at home
several visiting-cards of distinguished Muscovites, who, in
the year '56, regarded it as their peremptory duty to show
every attention possible to a famous exile, whom they
would under no consideration have wished to see three
years before. In the eyes of Chevalier, the porter, and
the servants of the hotel, the appearance of carriages ask-
ing for Peter Ivanovich, on that one morning increased
their respect and subserviency tenfold.
All those were name-day toys for Peter Ivanovich.
No matter how much tried in life, how clever a man may
be, the expression of respect from people respected by a
212 THE DECEMBRISTS
large number of men is always agreeable. Peter Ivano-
vich felt light of heart when Chevalier, bowing, offered
to change his apartments and asked him to order any-
thing he might need, and assured him that he re-
garded Peter Ivanovich's visit as a piece of luck, and
when, examining the visiting-cards and throwing them
into a vase, he called out the names of Count S- ,
Prince D , and so forth.
Natalya Nikolaevna said that she would not receive
anybody and that she would go at once to the house of
Mary a Ivanovna, to which Peter Ivanovich consented,
though he wished very much to talk to some of the vis-
itors.
Only one visitor managed to get through before the re-
fusal to meet him. That was Pakhtin. If this man had
been asked why he went away from the Prechfetenka to
go to Gazette Lane, he would have been unable to give
any excuse, except that he was fond of everything new
and remarkable, and so had come to see Peter Ivanovich,
as something rare. One would think that, coming to see
a stranger for no other reason than that, he would have
been embarrassed. But the contrary was true. Peter
Ivanovich and his son and Sonya Petrovna became em-
barrassed. Natalya Nikolaevna was too much of a
grande dame to become embarrassed for any reason what-
ever. The weary glance of her beautiful black eyes was
calmly lowered on Pakhtin. But Pakhtin was refreshing,
self-contented, and gaily amiable, as always. He was a
friend of Mdrya Ivanovna's.
" Ah ! " said Natalya Nikolaevna.
" Not a friend, — the difference of our years, — but she
has always been kind to me."
Pakhtin was an old admirer of Peter Ivanovich's, — he
knew his companions. He hoped that he could be
useful to the newcomers. He would have appeared
the previous evening, but could not find the time, and
THE DECEMBRISTS 213
begged to be excused, and sat down and talked for a long
time.
" Yes, I must tell you, I have found many changes in
Russia since then," Peter Ivanovich said, in reply to a
question.
The moment Peter Ivanovich began to speak, you
ought to have seen with what respectful attention Pakh-
tin received every word that flew out of the mouth of the
distinguished old man, and how after each sentence, at
times after a word, Pakhtin with a nod, a smile, or a
motion of his eyes gave him to understand that he had
received and accepted the memorable sentence or word.
The weary glance approved of that manoeuvre. Ser-
gy^y Petrovich seemed to be afraid lest his father's
conversation should not be weighty enough, corresponding
to the attention of the hearer. Sonya Petrovna, on the
contrary, smiled that imperceptible self-satisfied smile
which people smile who have caught a man's ridiculous
side. It seemed to her that nothing was to be got from
him, that he was a " shyilshka," as she and her brother
nicknamed a certain class of people.
Peter Ivanovich declared that during his journey he
had seen enormous changes, which gave him pleasure.
" There is no comparison, the masses — the peasants —
stand so much higher now, have so much greater con-
sciousness of their dignity," he said, as though repeating
some old phrases. " I must say that the masses have
always interested rae most. I am of the opinion that the
strength of Russia does not lie in us, but in the masses,"
and so forth.
Peter Ivanovich with characteristic zeal evolved his
more or less original ideas in regard to many important
subjects. We shall hear more of them in fuller form.
Pakhtin was melting for joy, and fully agreed with him
in everything.
" You must by all means meet the Aksatovs. Will you
214 THE DECEMBRISTS
permit me to introduce them to you, prince ? You know
they have permitted him to publish his periodicah To-
morrow, they say, the first number will appear. I have
also read his remarkable article on the consistency of the
theory of science in the abstract. Eemarkably interest-
ing. Another article, the history of Servia in the eleventh
century, of that famous general Karbovanets, is also very
interesting. Altogether an enormous step."
" Indeed," said Peter Ivanovich. But he was appar-
ently not interested in all these bits of information ; he
did not even know the names and merits of all those men
whom Pakhtin quoted as universally known.
But Natalya Nikolaevna, without denying the necessity
of knowing all these men and conditions, remarked in
justification of her husband that Pierre received his peri-
odicals very late. He read entirely too much.
" Papa, shall we not go to aunty ? " asked Sonya, upon
coming in.
" We shall, but we must have our breakfast. Won't
you have anything ? "
Pakhtin naturally declined, but Peter Ivanovich, with
the hospitality characteristic of every Eussian and of him
in particular, insisted that Pakhtin should eat and drink
something. He himself emptied a wine-glass of vodka
and a tumbler of Bordeaux. Pakhtin noticed that as he
was filling his glass, Natalya accidentally turned away
from it, and the son cast a peculiar glance on his father's
hands.
After the wine, Peter Ivanovich, in response to Pakh-
tin's questions about what his opinion was in respect to
the new literature, the new tendency, the war, the peace
(Pakhtin had a knack of uniting the most diversified sub-
jects into one senseless but smooth conversation), in re-
sponse to these questions Peter Ivanovich at once replied
with one general profession de foi, and either under the
influence of the wine, or of the subject of the conversation,
THE DECEMBRISTS 215
he became so excited that tears appeared in his eyes, and
Pakhtiu, too, was in ecstasy, and himself became tearful,
and without embarrassment expressed his conviction that
Peter Ivanovich was now in advance of all the foremost
men and should become the head of all the parties. Peter
Ivanovich's eyes became inflamed, — he behaved what
Pakhtin was telling him, — and he would have continued
talking for a long time, if Sdnya Petrovna had not schemed
to get Natalya Nikolaevna to put on her mantilla, and
had not come herself to raise Peter Ivanovich from his
seat. He poured out the rest of the wine into a glass,
but Sonya Petrovna drank it.
" What is this ? "
" I have not had any yet, papa, pardon."
He smiled.
" Well, let us go to Marya Ivanovna's. You will excuse
us. Monsieur Pakhtin."
And Peter Ivanovich left the room, carrying his head
high. In the vestibule he met a general, who had come
to call on his old acquaintance. They had not seen each
other for thirty-five years. The general was toothless and
bald.
" How fresh you still are ! " he said. " Evidently Sibe-
ria is better than St. Petersburg. These are your family,
— introduce me to them ! What a fine fellow your son
is ! So to dinner to-morrow ? "
" Yes, yes, by all means."
On the porch they met the famous Chikhaev, another
old acquaintance.
" How did you find out that I had arrived ? "
" It would be a shame for Moscow if it did not know it.
It is a shame that you were not met at the barrier. Where
do you dine ? No doubt with your sister, Marya Iva-
novna. Very well, I shall be there myself."
Peter Ivanovich always had the aspect of a proud man
for one who could not through that exterior make out the
216 THE DECEMBRISTS
expression of unspeakable goodness and impressionable-
uess ; but just then even Marya Nikolaevna was delighted
to see his unwonted dignity, and Sonya Petrovna smiled
with her eyes, as she looked at him. They arrived at the
house of Marya Ivanovua. Marya Ivauovna was' Peter
Ivanovicli's godmother and ten years his senior. She was
an old maid.
Her history, why she did not get married, and how she
had passed her youth, I will tell some time later.
She had lived uninterruptedly for forty years in Mos-
cow. She had neither much intelligence, nor great
wealth, and she did not think much of connections, — on
the contrary ; and there was not a man who did not
respect her. She was so convinced that everybody ought
to respect her that everybody actually respected her.
There were some young liberals from the university who
did not recognize her power, but these gentlemen made a
bold front only in her absence. She needed only to enter
the drawmg-room with her royal gait, to say something in
her calm manner, to smile her kindly smile, and they were
vanquished. Her society consisted of everybody. She
looked upon all of Moscow as her home folk, and treated
them as such. She had friends mostly among the young
people and clever men, but women she did not like. She
had also dependents, whom our literature has for some
reason included with the Hungarian woman and with
generals in one common class for contempt ; but Marya
Ivanovna considered it better for Skdpin, who had been
ruined in cards, and Madame By(^shev, whom her husband
had driven away, to be living with her than in misery,
and so she kept them.
But the two great passions in Marya Ivanovna's pres-
ent life were her two brothers. Peter Ivanovich was her
idol. Prince Ivan was hateful to her. She had not
known that Peter Ivanovich had arrived; she had at-
tended mass, and was just finishing her coffee.
THE DECEMBRISTS 217
At the table sat the vicar of Moscow, Madame By^
shev, and Skopin. Marya Ivanovna was telling them
about young Count V , the son of P Z , who
had returned from Sevastopol, and with whom she was in
love. (She had some passion aU the time.) He was to
dine with her on that day. The vicar got up and bowed
himself out. Marya Ivanovna did not keep him, — she
was a freethinker in this respect: she was pious, but had
no use for monks and laughed at the ladies that ran after
them, and boldly asserted that in her opinion monks were
just such men as we sinful people, and that it was better
to find salvation in the world than in a monastery.
" Give the order not to receive anybody, my dear," she
said, " I will write to Pierre. I cannot understand why
he is not coming. No doubt, Natalya Nikolaevna is ill."
Marya Ivanovna was of the opinion that Natalya Niko-
laevna did not hke her and was her enemy. She could
not forgive her because it was not she, his sister, who had
given up her property and had followed him to Siberia,
but Natalya Nikolaevna, and because her brother had
definitely declined her offer when she got ready to go
with him. After thirty-five years she was beginning to
believe that Natalya' Nikolaevna was the best woman in
the world and his guardian angel ; but she was envious,
and it seemed all the time to her that she was not a
good woman.
She got up, took a few steps in the parlour, and was
on the point of entering the cabinet when the door
opened, and Madame By^shev's wrinkled, grayish face,
expressing joyous terror, was thrust through the door.
" Marya Ivanovna, prepare yourself," she said.
" A letter ? "
" No, something better — "
But before she had a chance to finish, a man's lou<S
voice was heard in the antechamber :
" Where is she ? Go, Natasha."
21b THE DECEMBRISTS
" He ! " muttered Mary a Ivanovna, walking with long,
firm steps toward her brother. She met them all aa
though she had last seen them the day before.
" When didst thou arrive ? Where have you stopped ?
How have you come, — in a carriage ? " Such were the
questions which Marya Iv^.novna put, walking with them
to the drawing-room and not hearing the answers, and
looking with large eyes, now upon one, and now upon
another. Madame By(5shev was surprised at this calm,
even indifference, and did uot approve of it. They all
smiled ; the conversation died down, and Marya Ivanovna
looked silently and seriously at her brother.
" How are you ? " asked Peter Ivanovich, taking her
hand, and smiling.
Peter Ivanovich said " you " to her, though she had said
"thou." Marya Ivanovna once more looked at his gray
beard, his bald head, his teeth, his wrinkles, his eyes, his
sunburnt face, and recognized all that.
" Here is my Sonya."
But she did not look around.
" What a stup — " her voice faltered, and she took hold
of his bald head with her large white hands. " What a
stupid you are," she had intended to say, " not to have
prepared me," but her shoulders and breast began to
tremble, her old face twitched, and she burst out into
sobs, pressing to her breast his bald head, and repeating :
" What a stupid you are not to have prepared me ! "
Peter Ivanovich no longer appeared as such a great
man to himself, not so important as he had appeared on
Chevalier's porch. His back was resting against a chair,
but his head was in his sister's arms, his nose was
pressed against her corset, his nose was tickled, his hair
dishevelled, and there were tears in his eyes. But he felt
happy.
When this outburst of joyous tears was over, M^rya
Ivanovna understood what had happened and believed it,
THE DECEMBRISTS 219
and began to examine them all. But several times during
the course of the day, whenever she recalled what he had
been then, and what she had been, and what they were
now, and whenever the past misfortunes, and past joys
and loves, vividly rose in her imagination, she was again
seized by emotion, and got up and repeated : " What a
stupid you are, Pierre, what a stupid not to have prepared
me!"
" Why did you not come straight to me ? I should
have found room for you," said Marya Ivdnovna. " At
least, stay to dinner. You will not feel lonesome, Ser-
gy^y, — a young, brave Sevastopol soldier is dining here
to-day. Do you not know Nikolay Mikhaylovich's son ?
He is a writer, — has written sometliing nice. I have
not read it, but they praise it, and he is a dear fellow, — I
shall send for him. Chikhaev, too, wanted to come. He
is a babbler, — I do not hke him. Has he already called on
you ? Have you seen Nikita ? That is all nonsense.
What do you intend to do ? How are you, how is your
health, Natalya? What are you going to do with this
young fellow, and with this beauty ? "
But the conversation somehow did not flow.
Before dinner Natalya Nikolaevna went with the
children to an old aunt ; brother and sister were left
alone, and he began to tell her of his plans.
" Sonya is a young lady, she has to be taken out ; con-
sequently, we are going to live in Moscow," said Marys
Ivanovna.
" Never."
" Ser^zha has to serve."
" Never."
" You are still as crazy as ever."
But she was just as fond of the crazy man,
" First we must stay here, then go to the country, and
show everything to the children."
" It is my rule not to interfere in family matters," said
220 THE DECEMBRISTS
Mary a Ivanovna, after calming down from her agitation,
" and not to give advice. A young man has to serve,
that I have always thought, and now more than ever.
You do not know, Pierre, what these young men nowa-
days are. I know them all : there, Prince Dmitri's son is
all ruined. Their own fault. I am not afraid of any-
body, I am an old woman. It is not good." And she
began to talk about the government. She was dissatisfied
with it for the excessive liberty which was given to every-
thing. " The one good thing they have done was to let
you out. That is good."
Pierre began to defend it, but Marya Ivanovna was not
Pakhtin : they could come to no terms. She grew excited.
" What business have you to defend it ? You are just
as senseless as ever, I see."
Peter Ivanovich grew silent, with a smile which showed
that he did not surrender, but that he did not wish to
quarrel with Marya Ivanovna.
" You are smiling. We know that. You do not wish
to discuss with me, a woman," she said, merrily and
kindly, and casting a shrewd, intelligent glance at her
brother, such as could not be expected from her old, large-
featured face. " You could not convince me, my friend.
I am ending my three score and ten. I have not been a
fool all that time, and have seen a thing or two. I have
read none of your books, and I never will. There is only
nonsense in them ! "
" Well, how do you like my children ? Ser^zha ? "
Peter Ivanovich said, with the same smile.
" Wait, wait ! " liis sister rephed, with a threatening
gesture. " Don't switch me off on your children ! We
shall have time to talk about them. Here is what I
wanted to tell you. You are a senseless man, as sense-
less as ever, I see it in your eye. Now they are going to
carry you in their arms. Such is the fashion. You are
all in vogue now. Yes, yes, I see by your eyes that you
THE DECEJIBRISTS 221
are as senseless as ever," she added, in response to his
smile. " Keep away, 1 implore yoii in the name of Jesus
Christ our Lord, from those modern liberals. God knows
what they are up to. I know it will not end well. Our
government is silent just now, but when it conies later to
showing up the nails, you will recall my words. I am
afraid lest you should get mixed up in things again. Give
it up ! It is all nonsense. You have children."
" Evidently you do not know me, Marya Ivanovna,"
said her brother.
"All right, all right, we shall see. Either I do not
know you, or you do not know yourself. I just told you
what I had on my heart, and if you will listen to me, w^ell
and good. Now we can talk about Ser^zha. What kind
of a lad is he ? " She wanted to say, " I do not like him
very much," but she only said : " He resembles his mother
remarkably : they are like two drops of water. Sonya is
you all over, — I like her very much, very much — so
sweet and open. She is a dear. Where is she, Sonya ?
Yes, I forgot."
" How shall I tell you ? Sonya will make a good wife
and a good mother, but my Ser^zha is clever, very clever,
— nobody will take that froin him. He studied well, —
a little lazy. He is very fond of the natural sciences.
We have been fortunate: we had an excellent, excellent
teacher. He wants to enter the university, — to attend
lectures on the natural sciences, chemistry — "
Marya Ivanovna scarcely listened when her brother
began to speak of the natural sciences. She seemed to
feel sad, especially when he mentioned chemistry. She
heaved a deep sigh and rephed directly to that train of
thoughts which the natural sciences evoked in her.
" If you knew how sorry 1 am for them, Pierre," she
said, with sincere, calm, humble sadness. " So sorry, so
sorry. A whole life before them. Oh, how much they
will suffer yet ! "
222 THE DECEMBRISTS
" Well, we must hope that they will be more fortunate
than we."
" God grant it, God grant it ! It is hard to live, Pierre !
Take this one advice from me, my dear: don't philoso-
phize ! What a stupid you are, Pierre, oh, what a stupid !
But I must attend to matters. I have invited a lot of
people, but how am I going to feed them ? " She flared
up, turned away, and rang the bell.
" Call Taras ! "
" Is the old man still with you ? "
" Yes ; why, he is a boy in comparison with me."
Taras was angry and clean, but he undertook to get
everything done.
Soon Natalya Nikolaevna and Sonya, agleam with cold
and happiness, and rustling in their dresses, entered the
room ; Ser^zha was still out, attending to some purchases.
" Let me get a good look at her ! "
Marya Ivauovna took her face. Natalya Nikolaevna
began to tell something.
THE DECEMBRISTS
SECOND FEAGMENT
(Variant of the First Chapter)
The litigation " about the seizure in the Government of
P^nza, County of Krasnoslobodsk, by the landed proprie-
tor and ex-lieutenant of the Guards, Ivan Apykhtin, of
four thousand desyatinas of land from the neighbouring
Crown peasants of the village of Izlegoshcha," was through
the solicitude of the peasants' representative, Ivan Miro-
nov, decided in the court of the first instance — the
County Court — in favour of the peasants, and the enor-
mous parcel of land, partly in forest, and partly in plough-
ings which had been broken by Apykhtin's serfs, iu the
year 1815 returned into the possession of the peasants,
and they in the year 1816 sowed in this land and har-
vested.
The winning of tliis irregular case by the peasants
surprised all the neighbours and even the peasants them-
selves. This success of theirs could be explained only
on the supposition that Ivan Petrovich Apykhtin, a very
meek, peaceful man, who was opposed to litigations and
was convinced of the righteousness of this matter, had
taken no measures against the action of the peasants.
On the other hand, Ivan Mironov, the peasants' represent-
ative, a dry, hook-nosed, literate peasant, who had been
a township elder and had acted in the capacity of col-
lector of taxes, had collected fifty kopeks from each peas-
223
224 THE DECEMBRISTS
ant, which money he cleverly applied in the distribution
of presents, and had very shrewdly conducted the whole
affair.
Immediately after the decision handed down by the
County Court, Ap^khtin, seeing the danger, gave a power
of attorney to the shrewd manumitted serf, Ilya Mitrofa-
nov, who appealed to the higher court against the de-
cision of the County Court. Ilya Mitrofanov managed the
affair so shrewdly that, in spite of all the cunning of
the peasants' representative, Ivau Mirdnov, in spite of the
considerable presents distributed by him to the members
of the higher court, the case was retried iu the Govern-
ment Court in favour of the proprietor, and the land was
to go back to him from the peasants, of which fact their
representative was duly informed.
The representative, Ivan Mironov, told the peasants at
the meeting of the Commune that the gentleman in the
Government capital had pulled the proprietor's leg and
had " mixed up " the whole business, so that they wanted
to take the land back agaia, but that the proprietor would
not be successful, because he had a petition all written up
to be sent to the Senate, and that then the land would be
for ever confirmed to the peasants ; all they had to do
was to collect a rouble from each soul. The peasants
decided to collect the money and again to entrust the
whole matter to Ivan Mirdnov. When Mirdnov had all
the money in his hands, he went to St. Petersburg.
When, in the year 1817, during Passion-week, — it
fell late that year, — the time came to plough the grouud,
the Izlegdshcha peasants began to discuss at a meeting
whether they ought to plough the land under litigation
during that year, or not ; and, although Apykhtin's clerk
had come to see them during Lent with the order that
they should not plough the land and should come to some
agreement with him in regard to the rye aheady planted
in what had been the doubtful, and now was Apykhtin's
THE DECEMBRISTS 225
land, the peasants, for the very reason that the winter
crop had been sowed on the debatable land, and because
Apykhtin, in his desire to avoid being unfair to them,
wished to arbitrate the matter with them, decided to
plough the land under litigation and to take possession
of it before touching any other fields.
On the very day when the peasants went out to plough,
which was Maundy Thursday, Ivan Petrovich Apykhtin,
who had been preparing himself for communion during
the Passion-week, went to communion, and early in the
morning drove to the church in the village of Izlegoshcha,
of which he was a parishioner, and there he, without
knowing anything about the matter, amicably chatted with
the church elder. Ivan Petrovich had been to confes-
sion the night before, and had attended vigils at home ;
in the morning he had himself read the Kules, and at
eight o'clock had left the house. They waited for him
with the mass. As he stood at the altar, where he usually
stood, Ivan Petrovich rather reflected than prayed, which
made him dissatisfied with himself.
Like many people of that time, and, so far as that goes,
of all times, he was not quite clear in matters of religion.
He was past fifty years of age ; he never omitted carrying
out any rite, attended church, and went to communion
once a year ; in talking to his only daughter, he instructed
her in the articles of faith ; but, if he had been asked
whether he really believed, he would not have kno^^Ti
what to reply.
On that day more than on any other, he felt meek of
spirit, and, standing at the altar, he, instead of praying,
thought of how strangely everything was constructed in
the world : there he was, almost an old man, taking the
communion for perhaps the fortieth time in his life, and
he knew that everybody, all his home folk and all the
people in the church, looked at him as a model and took
him for an example, and he felt himself obliged to act as
226 THE DECEMBRISTS
an example in matters of religion, whereas he himself did
not know anything, and soon, very soon, he would die, and
even if he were killed he could not tell whether that in
which he was showing an example to others was true.
And it also seemed strange to him how every one con-
sidered — that he saw — old people to be firm and to
know what was necessary and what not (thus he always
thought about old men), and there he was old and posi-
tively failed to know, and was just as frivolous as he had
been twenty years before ; the only difference was that
formerly he did not conceal it, while now he did. Just
as in his childhood it had occurred to him during the
service that he might crow like a cock, even so now all
kinds of foolish things passed through his mind, and he,
the old man, reverentially bent his head, touching the
flagstones of the church with the old knuckles of his
hands, and Father Vasili was evidently timid in celebrat-
ing mass in his presence, and incited to zeal by his zeal.
" If they only knew what foolish things are running
through my head ! But that is a sin, a sin ; I must pray,"
he said to himself, when the service commenced ; and,
trying to catch the meaning of the responses, he began to
pray. Indeed, he soon transferred himself in feeling
to the prayer and thought of his sins and of everything
v/hich he regretted.
A respectable -looking old man, bald-headed, with thick
gray hair, dressed in a fur coat with a new white patch
on one-half of his back, stepping evenly with his out-
toeing bast shoes, went up to the altar, bowed low to him,
tossed his hair, and went beyond the altar to place some
tapers. This was the church elder, Ivan Fedotov, one of
the best peasants of the village of Izlegoshcha. Ivan
Petrovich knew him. The sight of this stern, firm face
led Iv^n Petrovich to a new train of thoughts. He was
one of those peasants who wanted to take the land away
from him, and one of the best and richest married farmers,
THE DECEMBRISTS 227
who needed the land, who could manage it, and had the
means to work it. His stern aspect, ceremonious bow,
and measured gait, and the exactness of his wearing-
apparel, — the leg-rags fitted his legs like stockings and
the laces crossed each other symmetrically on either leg,
— all his appearance seemed to express rebuke and enmity
on account of the land.
" I have asked forgiveness of my wife, of Manya " (his
daughter), " of the nurse, of my valet, Volddya, but it is
his forgiveness that I ought to ask for, and I ought to
forgive him," thought Ivan Petrdvich, and he decided
that after matins he would ask Ivan Feddtov to forgive
him.
And so he did.
There were but few people in church. The country
people were in the habit of going to communion in the
first and in the fourth week. Now there were only forty
men and women present, who had not had time to go to
communion before, a few old peasant women, the church
servants, and the manorial people of the Apykhtins and
his rich neighbours, the Chernyshevs. There was also
there an old woman, a relative of the Chernyshevs, who
was living with them, and a deacon's widow, whose son
the Chern^^shevs, in the goodness of their hearts, had
educated and made a man of, and who now was serving
as an official in the Senate. Between the matins and the
mass there were even fewer people left in the church.
There were left two beggar women, who were sitting in
the corner and conversing with each other and looking at
Ivan Petrdvich with tlie evident desire to congratulate
him and talk with him, and two lackeys, — one his own,
in livery, and the other, Chernyshev's, who had come
with the old woman. These two were also whispering
in an animated manner to each other, just as Ivan Petrd-
vich came out from the altar-place ; when they saw him,
228 THE DECEMBRISTS
they grew silent. There was also a woman in a tall
head-gear with a pearl face-ornament and in a white fur
coat, with which she covered up a sick child, who was
crying, and whom she was attempting to quiet ; and an-
other, a stooping old woman, also in a head-gear, but with
a woollen face-ornament and a white kerchief, which
was tied in the fashion of old women, and in a gray
gathered coat with an iris-design on the back, who,
kneeling in the middle of the church, and turning to an
old image between two latticed windows, over which hung
a new scarf with red edges, was praying so fervently,
solemnly, and impassionately that one could not fail
directing one's attention to her.
Before reaching the elder, who, standing at the little
safe, was kneading over the remnants of some tapers into
one piece of wax, Ivan Petrovich stopped to take a look
at the praying woman. The old woman was praying well.
She knelt as straight as it was possible to kneel in
front of the image ; all the members of her body were
mathematically symmetrical ; her feet behind her pressed
with the tips of her bast shoes at the same angle against
the stone floor; her body was bent back, to the extent
to which her stooping shoulders permitted her to do so ;
her hands were quite regularly placed below her abdomen ;
her head was thrown back, and her face, with an expres-
sion of bashful commiseration, wrinkled, and with a dim
glance, was turned straight toward the image with the
scarf. Having remained in an immobile position for a
minute or less, — evidently a definite space of time, —
she heaved a deep sigh and, taking her right hand away,
swung it above her head-gear, touched the crown of her
head with folded fingers, and made ample crosses by
carrying her hand down again to her abdomen and to her
shoulders ; then she swayed back and dropped her head
on her hands, which were placed evenly on the floor, and
again raised herself, and repeated the same.
THE DECEMBRISTS 229
*' Now she is praying," Ivan Petrdvich thought, as he
looked at her. " She does it differently from us sinners ;
this is faith, though I know that she is praying to her
own image, or to her scarf, or to her adornment on the
image, just like the rest of them. All right. What of
it ? " he said to himself, " every person has his own faith :
she prays to her image, and I consider it necessary to beg
the peasant's forgiveness."
And he walked over to the elder, instinctively scruti-
nizing the church in order to see who was going to see his
deed, which both pleased and shamed him. It was dis-
agreeable to him, because the old beggar women would
see it, and more disagreeable still, because Mishka, his
lackey, would see it. In the presence of Mishka, — he
knew how wide-awake and shrewd he was, — he felt that
he should not have the strength to walk up to Ivan Fe-
ddtov. He beckoned to Mishka to come up to him.
" What is it you wish ? "
" Go, my dear, and bring me the rug from the carriage,
for it is too damp here for my feet."
" Yes, sir."
When Mishka went away, Ivan Petrdvich at once went
up to Ivan Feddtov. Ivan Feddtov was disconcerted,
like a guilty person, at the approach of the gentleman.
Timidity and hasty motions formed a queer contradiction
to his austere face and curly steel-gray hair and beard.
" Do you wish a dime taper ? " he said, raising the
desk, and now and then casting his large, beautiful eyes
upon the master.
" No, I do not want a taper, Ivan. I ask you to forgive
me for Christ's sake, if I have in any way offended you.
Forgive me, for Christ's sake," Ivan Petrdvich repeated,
with a low bow.
Ivan Feddtov completely lost his composure and began
to move restlessly, but when he comprehended it all, he
smiled a gentle smile :
230 THE DECEMBRISTS
" God forgives," he said. " It seems to me, I have re-
ceived no offence from you. God will forgive you, — I
have not been offended by you," he hastened to repeat.
" Still — "
" God will forgive you, Ivan Petrovich. So you want
two dime tapers ? "
" Yes, two."
"He is an angel, truly, an angel. He begs even a
base peasant to forgive him. 0 Lord, true angels,"
muttered the deacon's widow, in an old black capote
and black kerchief. " Truly, we ought to understand
that."
" Ab, Paramonovna ! " Ivan Petrovich turned to her.
" Are you getting ready for communion, too ? You, too,
must forgive me, for Christ's sake."
" God will forgive you, sir, angel, merciful benefactor !
Let me kiss your hand ! "
" That will do, that will do, you know I do not like
that," said Ivan Petrovich, smiling, and going away from
the altar.
The mass, as always, did not take long to celebrate in
the parish of Izlegoshcha, the more so since there were
few communicants. Just as, after the Lord's Prayer, the
regal doors were closed, Ivan Petrovich looked through
the north door, to call Mishka to take off his fur coat.
When the priest saw that motion, he augrily beckoned to
the deacon, and the deacon almost ran out to call in the
lackey. Ivan Petrovich was in a pretty good humour,
but this subserviency and expression of respect from the
priest who was celebrating mass again soured him en-
tirely ; his thin, bent, shaven lips were bent still more
and his kindly eyes were lighted up by sarcasm.
" He acts as though I were his general," he thought,
and immediately he thought of the words of the Germau
tutor, whom he had once taken to the altar to attend a
THE DECEMBRISTS 231
Eussian divine service, and who had made him laugh
and had angered his wife, when he said, " Der Pop war
ganz hose, dass ich ihm Alles nachgcschcn hatte" He
also recalled the answer of the young Turk that there was
no God, because he had eaten up the last piece of him.
" And here I am going to communion," he thought, and,
frowning, he made a low obeisance.
He took off his bear-fur coat, and in his blue dress
coat with bright buttons and in his tall white neckerchief
and waistcoat, and tightly fitting trousers, and heelless,
sharp-toed boots, went with his soft, modest, and light
gait to make his obeisances to the large images. Here
he again met that same obsequiousness from the other
communicants, who gave up their places to him.
" They act as though they said, * Apres vous, sil en
rested " he thought, awkwardly making side obeisances ;
this awkwardness was due to the fact that he was trying
to find that mean in which there would be neither disre-
spect, nor hypocrisy. Finally the doors were opened. He
said the prayer after the priest, repeating the words, " As
a robber ; " his neckerchief was covered with the chalice
cloth, and he received his communion and the lukewarm
water in the ancient dipper, having put new silver twenty-
kopek pieces on ancient plates ; after hearing the last
prayers, he kissed the cross and, putting on his fur coat
left the church, receiving congratulations and experiencing
the pleasant sensation of having everything over. As he
left the church, he again fell in with Ivan Fedotov.
" Thank you, thank you ! " he replied to his congratu-
lations. " Well, are you going to plough soon ? "
" The boys have gone out, the boys have," replied Ivan
Fedotov, more timidly even than before. He supposed
that Ivan Petrdvich knew whither the Izlegoshcha peas-
ants had gone out to plough. " It is damp, though.
Damp it is. It is early yet, early it is."
Ivan Petrdvich went up to his parents' monument,
232 THE DECEMBRISTS
bowed to it, and went back to be helped into his six-in-
hand with an outrider.
" Well, thank God," he said to himself, swaying on the
soft, round springs and looking at the vernal sky with the
scattering clouds, at the bared earth and the white spots
of uurnelted snow, and at the tightly braided tail of a side
horse, and iuhahng the fresh spring air, which was partic-
ularly pleasant after the air in the church.
" Thank God that I have been through the communion,
and thank God that I now may take a pinch of snuff."
And he took out his snuff-box and for a long time held
the pinch between his fingers, smiling and, without let-
ting the pinch out of the hand, raising his cap in response
to the low bows of the people on the way, especially of the
women, who were washing the tables and chairs in front
of their houses, just as the carriage at a fast trot of the
large horses of the six-in-hand plashed and clattered
through the mud of the street of the village of Izle-
goshcha.
Ivan Petrdvich held the pinch of snuff, anticipating the
pleasure of snufhng, not only down the whole village, but
even until they got out of a bad place at the foot of a hill,
toward which the coachman descended not without anx-
iety : he held up the reins, seated himself more firmly,
and shouted to the outrider to go over the ice. When
they went around the bridge, over the bed of the river, and
scrambled out of the breaking ice and mud, Ivan Petrdvich,
looking at two plovers that rose from the hollow, took the
snuff and, feehug chilly, put on his glove, wrapped himself
in his fur coat, plunged his chin into the high neckerchief,
and said to himself, almost aloud, " Glorious ! " which he
was in the habit of saying secretly to himself whenever
he felt well.
In the night snow had fallen, and when Ivan Petrdvich
had driven to church the snow had not yet disappeared,
but was soft ; now, though there was no sun, it was
THE DECEMBRISTS 233
all melted from the moisture, and on the highway, on
which he had to travel for three versts before turning
into Chirakovo, the snow was white only in last year's
grass, which grew in parallel lines along the ruts ; but on
the black road the horses splashed through the viscous
mud. The good, well-fed, large horses of his own stud
had no difficulty in pulling the carriage, and it just rolled
over the grass, where it left black marks, and over the
mud, without being at all detained. Ivan Petrovich was
having pleasant reveries ; he was thinking of his home,
his wife, and his daughter.
" Manya will meet me at the porch, and with delight.
She will see such holiness in me ! She is a strange,
sweet girl, but she takes everything too much to heart.
The role of importance and of knowing everything that
is going on in this world, which I must play before her,
is getting to be too serious and ridiculous. If she knew
that I am afraid of her ! " he thought. " Well, Kato," (his
wife) " will no doubt be in good humour to-day, she will
purposely be in good humour, and we shall have a fine
day. It will not be as it was last week on account of the
Proshkin women. What a remarkable creature ! How
afraid of her I am ! What is to be done ? She does
not like it herself." And he recalled a famous anecdote
about a calf. A proprietor, having quarrelled with his
wife, was sitting at a window, when he saw a frisky calf :
" I should like to get you married ! " he said. And Ivan
Petrovich smiled again, according to his custom solving
every difficulty and every perplexity by a joke, which
generally was directed against himself.
At the third verst, near a chapel, the outrider bore to
the left, into a. cross-road, and the coachman shouted to
him for having turned in so abruptly that the centre
horses were struck by the shaft ; and the carriage almost
glided all the way down-hill. Before reaching the house,
the outrider looked back at the coachman and pointed to
234 THE DECEMBRISTS
something; the coachmau looked back at the lackey, and
indicated something to him. And all of them looked in
the same direction.
" What are you looking at ? " asked Ivan Petrovich.
" Geese," said Mishka.
« Where ? "
Though he straiued his vision, he could not see them.
" There they are. There is the forest, and there is the
cloud, so be pleased to look between the two."
Ivan Petrovich could not see anything.
" It is time for them. Why, it is less than a week to
Annunciation."
" That's so."
" Well, go on ! "
Near a puddle, Mishka jumped down from the foot-
board and tested the road, again climbed up, and the
carriage safely drove on the pond dam in the garden,
ascended the avenue, drove past the cellar and the
laundry, from which water was falhng, and nimbly
rolled up and stopped at the porch. The Chernyshev
calash had just left the yard. Prom the house at once
ran the servants : gloomy old Danilych with the side
whiskers, Nikolay, Mishka's brother, and the boy Pav-
liishka ; and after them came a girl with large black eyes
and red arms, which were bared above the elbow, and
with just such a bared neck.
" Marya Ivanovna, Marya Ivanovna ! Where are you
going ? Your mother will be worried. You will have
time," was heard the voice of fat Katerina behind her.
But the girl paid no attention to her ; just as her father
had expected her to do, she took hold of his arm and
looked at him with a strange glance.
" Well, papa, have you been to communion ? " she asked,
as though in dread.
" Yes. You look as though you were afraid that I
am such a sinner that I could not receive the communion."
THE DECEMBRISTS 235
The girl was apparently offended by her father's jest at
such a solemn moment. She heaved a sigh and, follow-
ing him, held his hand, which she kissed.
" Who is here ? "
" Young Chernyshev. He is in the drawing-room."
" Is mamma up ? How is she ? "
" Mamma feels better to-day. She is sitting down-
stairs."
In the passage room Ivan Petrovich was met by nurse
Evpraks^ya, clerk Andr^y Ivanovich, and a surveyor, who
was living at the house, in order to lay out some laud.
All of them congratulated Ivan Petrovich. In the draw-
ing-room sat Luiza Karlovna Trugdni, for ten years a
friend of the house, an emigrant governess, and a young
man of sixteen years, Chernyshev, with his French tutor.
THE DECEMBRISTS
THIED FEAGMENT
(Variant of the First Cliapter)
On the 2d of August, 1817, the sixth department of
the Directing Senate handed down a decision in the debat-
able laud case between the economic peasants of the
village of Izlegdshcha and Cheruyshev, which was in
favour of the peasants and against Chernyshev. This
decision was an unexpected and important calamitous
event for Chernyshev. The case had lasted five years.
It had been begun by the attorney of the rich village
of Izlegoshcha with its three thousand inhabitants, and
was won by the peasants in the County Court ; but when,
with the advice of lawyer Ilya Mitrofanov, a manorial
servant bought of Prince Saltykov, Prince Chernyshev
carried the case to the Government, he won it and
besides, the Izlegoshcha peasants were punished by hav-
ing six of them, who had insulted the surveyor, put in
jail.
After that, Prince Chernyshev, with his good-natured
and merry carelessness, entirely acquiesced, the more so
since he knew full well that he had not " appropriated "
any land of the peasants, as was said in the petition of
the peasants. If the land was " appropriated," his father
had done it, and since then more than forty years had
passed. He knew that the peasants of the village of
236
THE DECEMBRISTS 237
Izlegdshcha were getting along well without that land,
had no need of it, and lived on terms of friendship with
him, and was unable to understand why they had become
so infuriated against him. He knew that he never of-
fended and never wished to oft'end any one, that he lived
in peace with everybody, and that he never wished to do
otherwise, and so could not believe that any one should
think of offending him. He hated litigations, and so did
not defend his case in the Senate, in spite of the advice
and earnest solicitations of his lawyer, Ilya Mitrofanov ;
by allowing the time for the appeal to lapse, he lost the
case in the Senate, and lost it in such a way that he was
confronted with complete ruin. By the decree of the Sen-
ate he not only was to be deprived of five thousand desya-
tinas of land, but also, for the illegal tenure of that land,
was to be mulcted to the amount of 107,000 roubles in
favour of the peasants.
Prince Chernyshev had eight thousand souls, but all
the estates were mortgaged and he had large debts, so that
this decree of the Senate ruined him with his whole large
family. He had a son and five daughters. He thought
of his case when it was too late to attend to it in the Sen-
ate. Ace trding to Ilya Mitrofanov's words there was but
one salvation, and that was, to petition the sovereign and
to transfer the case to the Imperial Council. To obtain
this it was necessary in person to approach one of the min-
isters or a member of the Council, or, better still, the em-
peror himself. Taking all that into consideration. Prince
Grigori Ivanovich in the fall of the year 1817 with his
whole family left his beloved estate of Stud^nets, where
he had hved so long without leaving it, and went to Mos-
cow. He started for Moscow, and not for St. Petersburg,
because in the fall of that year the emperor with his
whole court, with all the highest dignitaries, and with part
of the Guards, in which the son of Grigori Ivanovich was
serving, was to arrive in Moscow to lay the corner-stone
238 THE DECEMBRISTS
of the Church of the Saviour in commemoration of the
liberation of Russia from the French invasion.
In August, immediately after receiving the terrible
news of the decree of the Senate, Prince Grigori Ivano-
vich got ready to go to Moscow. At first the majordomo
was sent away to fix the prince's own house on the Arbat ;
then was sent out a caravan with furniture, servants,
horses, carriages, and provisions. In September the prince
with his whole family travelled in seven carriages, drawn
by his own horses, and, after arriving in Moscow, settled
in his house. Relatives, friends, visitors from the prov-
ince and from St. Petersburg began to assemble in Moscow
in the month of September. The Moscow life, with its
entertainments, the arrival of his son, the debuts of his
daughters, and the success of his eldest daughter, Alek-
sandra, the only blonde among all the brunettes of the
Chernyshevs, so much occupied and diverted the prince's
attention that, in spite of the fact that here in Moscow he
was spending everything which would be left to him after
paying all he owed, he forgot his affair and was annoyed
and tired whenever Ilya Mitrofanov talked of it, and un-
dertook nothing for the success of his case.
Ivan Mironovich Baiishkin, the chief attorney of the
peasants, who had conducted the case against the prince
with so much zeal in the Senate, who knew all the ap-
proaches to the secretaries and departmental chiefs, and
who had so skilfully distributed the ten thousand roubles,
collected from the peasants, in the shape of presents, now
himself brought his activity to an end and returned to
the village, where, with the money collected for him as a
reward and with what was left of the presents, he bought
himself a grove from a neighbouring proprietor and built
there a hut and an office. The case was finished in the
court of the highest instance, and everything would now
proceed of its own accord.
The only ones of those concerned in the case who could
THE DECEMBRISTS 239
not forget it were the six peasants who were passing
their seventh month in jail, and their famihes that were
left without their heads. But nothing could be done in
the matter. They were imprisoned in Krasnoslobodsk,
and their families tried to get along as well as they could.
Nobody could be invoked in the case. Ivan Mironovich
himself said that he could not take it up, because it was
not a communal, nor a civil, but a criminal case. The
peasants were in prison, and nobody paid any attention tc
them ; but one family, that of Mikhail Gerasimovich, par-
ticularly his wife Tikhonovna, could not get used to the
idea that the precious old man, Gerasimovich, was sitting
in prison with a shaven head. Tikhonovna could not rest
quiet. She begged Mironovich to take the case, but he
dechned it. Then she decided to go herself to pray to
God for the old man. She had made a vow the year be-
fore that she would go on a pilgrimage to a saint, and had
delayed it for another year only because she had had no
time and did not wish to leave the house to the young
daughters-in-law. Now that the misfortune had happened
and Gerasimovich was put into jail, she recalled her vow ;
she turned her back on her house and, together with the
deacon's wife of the same village, got ready to go on the
pilgrimage.
First they went to the county seat to see her old man
in the prison and to take him some shirts; from there
they went through the capital of the Government to Mos-
cow. On her way Tikhonovna told the deacon's wife of
her sorrow, and the latter advised her to petition the em-
peror who, it was said, was to be in P^nza, telling her of
various cases of pardon granted by him.
When the pilgrims arrived in Penza, they heard that
there was there, not the emperor, but his brother Grand
Duke Nikolay Pavlovich. When he came out of the
cathedral, Tikhonovna pushed herself forward, dropped
down on her knees, and began to beg for her husband.
240 THE DECEMBRISTS
The grand duke was surprised, the governor was angry,
and the old woman was taken to the lockup. The next
day she was let out and she proceeded to Troitsa. In
Troitsa she went to communion and confessed to Father
Paisi. At the confession she told him of her sorrow, and
repented having petitioned the brother of the Tsar. Fa-
ther Paisi told her that there was no sin in that and
that there was no sin in petitioning the Tsar even in a
just case, and dismissed her. In Khdtkov she called on
the blessed abbess, and she ordered her to petition the
Tsar himself.
On their way back, Tikhonovna and the deacon's
wife stopped in Moscow to see the saints. Here
she heard that the Tsar was there, and she thought
that it was evidently God's command that she should
petition the Tsar. All that had to be done was to write
the petition.
In Moscow the pilgrims stopped in a hostelry. They
begged permission to stay there overnight ; they were
allowed to do so. After supper the deacon's wife lay
down on the oven, and Tikhonovna, placing her wallet
under her head, lay down on a bench and fell asleep. In
the morning, before daybreak, Tikhonovna got up, woke
the deacon's wife, and went out. The innkeeper spoke
to her just as she walked into the yard.
" You are up early, granny," he said.
" Before we get there, it will be time for matins," Ti-
khonovna replied.
" God be with you, grannny ! "
" Christ- save you ! " said Tikhonovna, and the pilgrims
went to the Kremlin.
After standing through the matins and the mass, and
having kissed the relics, the old women, with difficulty
making their way, arrived at the house of the Cherny-
shevs. The deacon's wife said that the old lady had
THE DECEMBKISTS 241
given her an urgent invitation to stop at her house, and
had oixiered that all pilgrims should be received.
" There we shall find a man who will write the peti-
tion," said the deacon's wife, and the pilgrims started to
blunder through the streets and ask their way. The dea-
con's wife had been there before, but had forgotten where
it was. Two or three times they were almost crushed,
and people shouted at them and scolded them. Once a
policenian took the deacon's wife by the shoulder and,
giving her a push, forbade her to walk through the street
on which they were, and directed them through a forest of
lanes. Tikhonovna did not know that they were driven
off the Vozdvizhenka for the very reason that through
that street was to drive the Tsar, of whom she was think-
ing all the time, and to whom she intended to give the
petition.
The deacon's wife walked, as always, heavily and com-
plainingly, while Tikhonovna, as usual, walked lightly
and briskly, with the gait of a young woman. At the
gate the pilgrims stopped. The deacon's wife did not
recognize the house : there was there a new hut which
she had not seen before ; but on scanning the well with
the pumps in the corner of the yard, she recognized it all.
The dogs began to bark and made for the women with
the staffs.
" Don't mind them, aunties, they will not touch you.
Away there, accursed ones ! " the janitor shouted to the
dogs, raising the broom on them. " They are themselves
from the country, and just see them bark at country peo-
ple ! Come this way ! You will stick in the mud, —
Grod has not given any frost yet."
But the deacon's wife, frightened by the dogs, and mut-
tering in a whining tone, sat down on a bench near the
gate and asked the janitor to take her by. Tikhonovna
made her customary bow to the janitor and, leaning on
her crutch and spreading her feet, which were tightly cov-
242 THE DECEMBKISTS
ered with leg-rags, stopped near her, looking as always
calmly in front of her and waiting for the janitor to come
up to them.
" Whom do you want ? " the janitor asked.
" Do you not recognize us, dear man ? Is not your
name Egor ? " asked the deacon's wife. " We are coming
back from the saints, and so are calling on her Serenity."
" You are from Izlegoshcha," said the janitor. " You
are the wife of the old deacon, — of course. All right,
all right. Go to the house ! Everybody is received here,
— nobody is refused. And who is this one ? "
He pointed to Tikhonovna.
" From Izlegoshcha, Gerasimovich's wife, — used to be
Fady^ev's, — I suppose you know her ? " said Tikhonovna.
" I myself am from Izlegoshcha."
" Of course ! They say your husband has been put
into jail."
Tikhonovna made no reply ; she only sighed and with
a strong motion threw her wallet and fur coat over her
shoulder.
The deacon's wife asked whether the old lady was at
home and, hearing that she was, asked him to announce
them to her. Then she asked about her son, who was an
ofticial and, thanks to the prince's influence, was serving
in St. Petersburg. The janitor could not give her any
information about him and directed them over a walk,
which crossed the yard, to the servants' house. The
old women went into the house, which was fuU of people,
— women, children, both old and young, — all of them
manorial servants, and prayed turning to the front corner.
The deacon's wife was at once recognized by the laun-
dress and the old lady's maid, and she was at once sur-
rounded and overwhelmed with questions : they took off
her wallet, placed her at the table, and offered her some-
thing to eat. In the meantime Tikhonovna, having
made the sign of the cross to the images and saluted
THE DECEMBRISTS 243
everybody, was standing at the door, waiting to be invited
in. At the very door, in front of the first window, sat an
old man, making boots.
" Sit down, granny ! Don't stand up. Sit down here,
and take off your wallet," he said.
" There is not enough room to turn around as it is.
Take her to the ' black ' room," said a woman.
" This comes straight from Madame Chalm^," said a
young lackey, pointing to the iris design on Tikhonovna's
peasant coat, " and the pretty stockings and shoes."
He pointed to her leg-rags and bast shoes, which were
new, as she had specially put them on for Moscow.
" Parasha, you ought to have such."
" If you are to go to the ' black ' room, all right ; I will
take you there." And the old man stuck in his awl and
got up ; but, on seeing a Httle girl, he called her to take
the old woman to the black room.
Tikhonovna not only paid no attention to what was
being said in her presence and of her, but did not even
look or listen. From the time that she entered the house,
she was permeated with the feehng of the necessity of
working for God and with the other feeling, which had
entered her soul, she did not know when, of the necessity
of handing the petition. Leaving the clean servant room,
she walked over to the deacon's wife and, bowing, said to
her:
" Mother Paramonovna, for Christ's sake do not forget
about my affair ! See whether you can't find a man."
" What does that woman need ? "
" She has suffered insult, and people have advised her
to hand a petition to the Tsar."
" Take her straight to the Tsar ! " said the jesting
lackey.
" Oh, you fool, you rough fool," said the old shoemaker.
" I will teach you a lesson with this last, then you will
know how to grin at old people."
244 THE DECEMBRISTS
The lackey began to scold, but the old man, paying no
attention to him, took Tikhonovna to the black room.
Tikhonovna was glad that she was sent out of the
baking-room, and was taken to the black, the coachmen's
room. In the baking-room everything looked clean, and
the people were all clean, and Tikhonovna did not feel at
ease there. The black coachmen's room was more like
the inside of a peasant house, and Tikhonovna was more
at home there. The black hut was a dark pine building,
twenty by twenty feet, with a large oven, bed places,
and hanging-beds, and a newly paved, dirt-covered floor.
When Tikhonovna entered the room, there were there the
cook, a white, ruddy-faced, fat, manorial woman, with
the sleeves of her chintz dress rolled up, who with difh-
culty was moving a pot in the oven with an oven-fork ;
then a young, small coachman, who was learning to play
the balalayka ; an old man with an unshaven, soft white
beard, who was sitting on a bed place with his bare feet
and, holding a skein of silk between his lips, was sewing
on some fine, good material, and a shaggy-haired, swarthy
young man, in a shirt and blue trousers, with a coarse
face, who, chewing bread, was sitting on a bench at the
oven and leaning his head on both his arms, which were
steadied against his knees.
Barefoot Nastka with sparkling eyes ran into the room
with her lithe, bare feet, in front of the old woman, jerk-
ing open the door, which stuck fast from the steam within,
and squeaking in her thin voice :
" Aunty Marina, Simonych sends this old woman, and
says that she should be fed. She is from our parts : she
has been with Paramdnovna to worship the saints. Para-
mdnovna is having tea, — Vlasevna has sent for her — "
The garrulous little girl would have gone on talking
for quite awhile yet ; the words just poured forth from
her and, apparently, it gave her pleasure to hear her own
voice. But Marina, who was in a perspiration, and who
THE DECEMBRISTS 245
had not yet succeeded in pushing away the pot with the
beet soup, which had caught in the hearth, shouted angrily
at her :
" Stop your babbling I What old woman am I to feed
now ? I have enough to do to feed our own people.
Shoot you ! " she shouted to the pot, wliich came very near
falling down, as she removed it from the spot where it
was caught.
But when she was satisfied in regard to the pot, she
looked around and, seeing trim Tikhonovna with her wal-
let and correct peasant attire, making the sign of the cross
and bowing low toward the front corner, felt ashamed of
her words and, as though regaining her consciousness after
the cares which had worn her out, she put her hand to her
breast, where beneath the collar-bone buttons clasped
her dress, and examined it to see whether it was buttoned,
and then put her hands to her head to fasten the knot
of the kerchief, which covered her greasy hair, and took
up an attitude, leaning against the oven-fork and waiting
for the salute of the trim old woman. Tikhonovna made
her last low obeisance to God, and turned around and
saluted in three directions.
" God aid you, good day ! " she said.
" You are welcome, aunty ! " said the tailor.
" Thank you, granny, take off your wallet ! Sit down
here," said the cook, pointing to a bench where sat the
shaggy-haired man. " Move a httle, can't you ? Are you
stuck fast ? "
The shaggy man, scowhng more angrily still, rose,
moved away, and, continuing to chew, riveted his eyes
on the old woman. The young coachman made a bow
and, stopping his playing, began to tighten the strings of
his balalayka, looking now at the old woman, and now at
the tailor, not knowing how to treat the old woman, —
whether respectfully, as he thought she ought to be
treated, because the old woman wore the same kind
246 THE DECEMBRISTS
of attire that his grandmother and mother wore at home
(he had been taken from the village to be an outrider), or
making fun of her, as he wished to do and as seemed
to him to accord with his present condition, his blue coat
and his boots. The tailor winked with one eye and
seemed to smile, drawing the silk to one side of his
mouth, and looked on. Marina started to put in another
pot, but, even though she was busy working, she kept
looking at the old woman, while she briskly and nimbly
took off her wallet and, trying not to disturb any one, put
it under the bench. Nastka ran up to her and helped
her, by taking away the boots, which were lying in her
way under the bench.
" Uncle Paukrat," she turned to the gloomy man, " I
will put the boots here. Is it all right ? "
" The devil take them ! Throw them into the oven, if
you wish," said the gloomy man, throwing them into
another corner.
" Nastka, you are a clever girl," said the tailor. " A
pilgrim has to be made comfortable."
" Christ save you, girl ! That is nice," said Tikhonovna.
" I am afraid I have put you out, dear man," she said,
turning to Pankrat.
" All right," said Pankrat.
Tikhonovna sat down on the bench, having taken off
her coat and carefully folded it, and began to take off her
footgear. At first she untied the laces, which she had
taken special care in twisting smooth for her pilgrimage ;
then she carefully unwrapped the white lambskin leg-
rags and, carefully rubbing them soft, placed them on her
wallet. Just as she was working on her other foot,
another of awkward Marina's pots got caught and spilled
over, and she again started to scold somebody, catching
the pot with the fork.
" The hearth is evidently burned out, grandfather. It
ought to be plastered," said Tildionovna.
THE DECEMBRISTS 247
" When are you going to plaster it ? The chimney
never cools off : twice a day you have to bake bread ; one
set is taken out, and the other is started."
In response to Marina's complaint about the bread-
baking and the burnt-out hearth, the tailor defended the
ways of the Chernyshev house and said that they had
suddenly arrived in Moscow, that the hut was built and
the oven put up in three weeks, and that there were
nearly one hundred servants who had to be fed.
" Of course, lots of cares. A large estabhshment,"
Tikhonovna confirmed him.
" Whence does God bring you ? " the tailor turned to
her.
And Tikhonovna, continuing to take off her foot-gear,
at once told him where she came from, whither she had
gone, and how she was going home. She did not say
anything about the petition. The conversation never
broke off. The tailor found out everything about the old
woman, and the old woman heard all about awkward,
pretty Marina. She learned that Marina's husband was
a soldier, and she was made a cook ; that the tailor was
making caftans for the driving coachmen ; that the
stewardess's errand girl was an orphan, and that shaggy-
haired, gloomy Pankrat was a servant of the clerk, Ivan
Vasilevich.
Pankrat left the room, slamming the door. The tailor
told her that he was a gruff peasant, but that on that
day he was particularly rude because the day before he
had smashed the clerk's knickknacks on the window, and
that he was going to be flogged to-day in the stable. As
soon as Ivan Vasilevich should come, he would be flogged.
The little coachman was a peasant lad, who had been
made an outrider, and now that he was grown he had
nothing to do but attend to the horses, and strum the
balaldyka. But he was not much of a hand at it.
ON POPULAR EDUCATION
1875
ON POPULAR EDUCATION
I SUPPOSE each of us has had more than one occasion
to come in contact with monstrous, senseless phenomena,
and to find back of these phenomena put forward some
important principle, which overshadowed those phenom-
ena, so that in our youthful and even maturer years we
began to doubt whether it was true that those phenomena
were monstrous, and whether we were not mistaken.
And having been unable to convince ourselves that mon-
strous phenomena might be good, or that the protection
of an important principle was illegitimate, or that the
principle was only a word, we remained in regard to those
phenomena in an ambiguous, undecided condition.
In such a state I was, and I assume many of us are,
in respect to the principle of " development " which ob-
fuscates pedagogy, in its connection with the rudiments.
But popular education is too near to my heart, and I have
busied myself too much with it, to remain too long in
indecision. The monstrous phenomena of the imaginary
development I could not call good, nor could I be per-
suaded that the development of the pupil was bad, and
so I began to inquire what that development was. I do
not consider it superfluous to communicate the deductions
to which I have been led during the study of this matter.
To define what is understood by the word " develop-
ment," I shall take the manuals of Messrs. Bunakov and
261
252 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
Evtushevski, as being new works, which combine all the
latest deductions of German pedagogy, intended as guides
for the teachers in the popular schools, and selected by
the advocates of the sound method as manuals in their
schools.
In discussing what is to form the foundation for a
choice of this or that method for the teaching of reading,
Mr. Bunakov says :
" No, an opinion about the method of construction
based on such near-sighted and flimsy foundations (that
is, on experience) will be too doubtful. Only the theo-
retical substratum, based on the study of human nature,
can make the judgments in this sphere firm and inde-
pendent of all casualties, and to a considerable degree
guard them against gross errors. Consequently for the
final choice of the best method of teaching the rudiments,
it is necessary first of all to stand on theoretic soil, on
the basis of previous considerations, the general conditions
of which give to this or that method the actual right to
be called satisfactory from the pedagogical standpoint.
These conditions are : (1) It has to be a method which is
capable of developing the child's mental powers, so that
the acquisition of the rudiments may be obtained together
with the development and the strengthening of the rea-
soning powers. (2) It must introduce into the instruc-
tion the child's personal interest, so that the matter be
furthered by this interest, and not by dulling violence.
(3) It must represent in itself the process of self-instruc-
tion, inciting, supporting, and directing the child's self-
activity. (4) It must be based on the impressions of
hearing, as of the sense which serves for the acquisition
of language. (5) It has to combine analysis with syn-
thesis, beginning with the dismemberment of the complex
whole into simple principles, and passing over to the com-
position of a complex whole out of the simple principles."
So this is what the method of instruction is to be based
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 253
upon. I will remark, not for contradiction, but for the
sake of simplicity and clearness, that the last two state-
ments are quite superfluous, because without the union of
analysis and synthesis there can be not only no instruc-
tion, but also no other activity of the mind, and every
instruction, except that of the deaf and dumb, is based
on the sense of hearing. These two conditions are put
down only for beauty's sake and for the obscuration of
the style, so common in pedagogical treatises, and so have
no meaning whatever. The first three at first sight
appear quite true as a programme. Everybody, of course,
would hke to know how the method is secured that will
" develop," that will " introduce into the instruction the
pupil's personal interest," and that will " represent the
process of self-instruction."
But to the questions as to why this method combines
all those qualities you will find an answer neither in the
books of Messrs. Bunakov and Evtush^vski, nor in any
other pedagogical work of the founders of this school of
pedagogy, unless they be those hazy discussions of this
nature, such as that every instruction must be based ou
the union of analysis and synthesis, and by all means
on the sense of hearing, and so forth ; or you will find, as
in Mr. Evtush^vski's book, expositions about how in man
are formed impressions, sensations, representations, and
concepts, and you will find the rule that "it is necessary
to start from the object and lead the pupil up to the idea,
and not start with the idea, which has no point of con-
tact in his consciousness," and so forth. After such dis-
cussions there always follows the conclusion that therefore
the method advocated by the pedagogue gives that exclu-
sive real development which it was necessary to find.
After the above-cited definition of what a good method
ought to be, Mr. Bunakov explains how children ought
to be educated, and, having given an exposition of all the
methods, which in my opinion and experience lead to
254 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
results which are diametrically opposite to development,
he says frankly and definitely :
" From the standpoint of the above-mentioned funda-
mental principles for estimating the value of the satisfac-
toriness of the methods of rudimentary instruction, the
method which we have just elucidated in its general
features presents the following plastic qualities and pecu-
liarities: (1) As a sound method it wholly preserves the
characteristic peculiarities of all sound method, — it starts
from the impressions of hearing, at once establishing the
regular relation to language, and only later adds to them
the impressions of sight, thus clearly distinguishing sound,
matter, and the letter, its representation. (2) As a method
which unites reading with writing it begins with decom-
position and passes over to composition, combining anal-
ysis with synthesis. (3) As a method which passes
over to the study of words and sounds from the study
of objects it proceeds along a natural path, cooperates
with the regular formation of concepts and ideas, and
acts in a developing way on all the sides of the child's
nature : it incites the children to be observant, to group
their observations, to render them orally ; it develops the
external senses, mind, imagination, memory, the gift of
speech, concentration, self-activity, the habit of work, the
respect for order. (4) As a method which provides ample
work to all the mental powers of the child, it introduces
into instruction the personal interest, rousing in children
willingness and love of work, and transforming it into a
process of self-instruction."
This is precisely what Mr. Evtush^vski does ; but why
it is all so remains inexplicable to him who is looking for
actual reasons and does not become entangled in such
words as psychology, didactics, methodics, heuristics. I
advise all those who have no inclination for philosophy
and therefore have no desire to verify all those deductions
of the pedagogues not to be embarrassed by these words
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 265
and to be assured that a thing which is not clear cannot
be the basis of anything, least of all of such an important
and simple thing as popular education.
All the pedagogues of this school, especially the Ger-
mans, the founders of the school, start with the false idea
that those philosophical questions which have remained
as questions for all the philosophers from Plato to Kant,
have been definitely settled by them. They are settled
so definitely that the process of the acquisition by man
of impressions, sensations, concepts, ratiocinations, has
been analyzed by them down to its minutest details, and
the component parts of what we call the soul or the
essence of man have been dissected and divided into parts
by them, and that, too, in such a thorough manner that
on this firm basis can go up the faultless structure of the
science of pedagogy. This fancy is so strange that I do
not regard it as necessary to contradict it, more especially
as I have done so in my former pedagogical essays. All
I will say is that those philosophical considerations which
the pedagogues of this school put at the basis of their
theory not only fail to be absolutely correct, not only
have nothing in common with real philosophy, but even
lack a clear, definite expression with w^hich the majority
of the pedagogues might agree.
But, perchance, the theory of the pedagogues of the
new school, in spite of its unsuccessful references to phi-
losophy, has some value in itself. And so we will exam-
ine it, to see what it consists in. Mr. Bunakov says :
" To these little savages (that is, the pupils) must be
imparted the main order of school instruction, and into
their consciousness must be introduced such initial con-
cepts as they will have to come in contact with from
the start, during the first lessons of drawing, readijig,
writing, and every elementary instruction, such as : the
right side and the left, to the right — to the left, up — -
down, near by — around, in front — in back, close by —
256 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
in the distance, before — behind, above — below, fast
— slow, softly — aloud, and so forth. No matter how
simple these concepts may be, I know from practice that
even city children, from well-to-do families, are frequently,
when they come to the elementary schools, unable to dis-
tinguish the right side from the left. I assume that there
is no need of expatiating on the necessity of explaining
such concepts to village children, for any one who has had
to deal with village schools knows this as well as I do."
And Mr. Evtushevski says :
« Without entering into the broad field of the debatable
question about the innate ability of man, we only see that
the child can have no innate concepts and ideas about
real things, — they have to be formed, and on the skill
with which they are formed by the educator and teacher
depends both their regularity and their permanency. In
watching the development of the child's soul one has to
be much more cautious than in attending to his body. If
the food for the body and the various bodily exercises are
carefully chosen both as regards their quantity and their
quality, in conformity with the man's growth, so much
more cautious have we to be in the choice of food and
exercises for the mind. A badly placed foundation will
precariously support what is fastened to it."
Mr. Bunakov advises that ideas be imparted as follows :
" The teacher may begin a conversation such as ho
deems fit : one will ask every pupil for his name ; another
about what is going on outside ; a third about where each
somes from, where he lives, what is going on at home, —
and then he may pass over to the main subject. ' Where
are you sitting now ? Why did you come here ? What are
we going to do in this room ? Yes, we are going to study
in this room , — so let us caU it a class-room. See
what there is under your feet, below you. Look, but
do not say anything. The one I will tell to speak shall
answer. Tell me, what do you see under your feet ? Ke-
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 257
peat everything we have found out and have said about
this room : in. what room are we sitting ? What are the
parts of the room ? What is there on the walls ? What
is standing on the floor ? '
" The teacher from the start establishes the order which
is necessary for the success of his work : each pupil is
to answer only when asked to do so ; all the others are to
listen and should be able to repeat the words of the teacher
and of their companions ; the desire to answer, when the
teacher directs a question to everybody, is to be expressed
by raising the left hand ; the words are to be pronounced
neither in a hurry, nor by drawing them out, but loudly,
distinctly, and correctly. To obtain this latter result the
teacher gives them a living example by his loud, correct,
distinct enunciation, showing them in practice the differ-
ence between soft and loud, distinct and correct, slow and
fast. The teacher should see to it that all the children
take part in the work, by having somebody's question
answered or repeated, now by one, now by another, and
now by the whole class at once, but especially by rousing
the indifferent, inattentive, and playful children : the first
he must enhven by frequent questions, the second he
must cause to concentrate themselves on the subject of
the common work, and the third he must curb. During
the first period the children ought to answer in full, that
is, by repeating the question : ' We are sitting in the
class-room ' (and not in brief, ' In the class-room ') ; ' Above,
over my head, I see the ceiling ; ' 'On the left I see three
windows,' and so forth."
Mr. Evtush^vski advises that in this way be begun all
the lessons on numbers from 1 to 10, of which there are
to be 120, and which are to be continued through the year.
" One. The teacher shows the pupils a cube, and asks :
' How many cubes have I ? ' and taking several cubes into
the other hand, he asks, ' And how many are there here ? '
— ' Many, a few.'
258 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
" ' Name here in the class-room an object of which there
are several.' — ' Bench, window, wall, copy-book, pencil,
slate-pencil, pupil, and so forth.' — ' Name an object of
which there is only one in the class-room.' — ' The black-
board, stove, door, ceiling, floor, picture, teacher, and so
forth.' — ' If I put this cube away in my pocket, how many
cubes will there be left in my hand ? ' — ' Not one.' — ' And
how many must I again put into my hand, to have as many
as before ? ' — ' One.' — * What is meant by saying that
P(5tya fell down once ? How many times did P^tya
fall ? Did he fall another time ? Why does it say once ? '
— ' Because we are speaking only of one case and not of an-
other case.' — * Take your slates (or copy-books). Make
on them a line of this size.' (The teacher draws on the
blackboard a line two or four inches in length, or shows on
the ruler that length.) * Rub it off. How many lines are
left ? ' — ' Not one.' — ' Draw several such lines.' It would
be unnatural to invent any other exercises in order to ac-
quaint the children with number one. It suffices to rouse
in them that conception of unity which they, no doubt,
had previous to their school instruction."
Then Mr. Bunakov speaks of exercises on the board,
and so on, and Mr. Evtush^vski of the number four with
its decomposition. Before examining the theory itself of
the transmission of ideas, the question involuntarily arises
whether that theory is not mistaken in its very problem.
Has the condition of the pedagogical material with which
it has to do been correctly defined ? The first thing that
startles us is the strange relation to some imaginary chil-
dren, to such as I, at least, have never seen in the Eussian
Empire. The conversations, and the information which
they impart, refer to children of less than two years of age,
because two-year-old children know all that is contained
in them, but as to the questions which have to be asked,
they have reference to parrots. Any pupil of six, seven,
eight, or nine years will not understand a thing in these
ON POPULAR EDUCATIOISr 259
questions, because he knows all about that, and cannot
make out what it all means. The demands for such con-
versations evince either complete ignorance, or a desire
to ignore that degree of development on which the pupils
stand.
Maybe the children of Hottentots and negroes, or some
German children, do not know what is imparted to them
in such conversations, but Eussian children, except de-
mented ones, all those who come to a school, not only
know what is up and what down, what is a bench and
what a table, what is two and what one, and so forth, but,
in my experience, the peasant children who are sent to
school by their parents can every one of them express their
thoughts well and correctly, can understand another per-
son's thought (if it is expressed in Eussian), and can count
to twenty and more ; playing with kuuckle-bones they
count in pairs and sixes, and they know how many points
and pairs there are in a six. Frequently the pupils who
came to my school brought with them the problem with
the geese, and explained it to me. But even if we admit
that children possess no such conceptions as those the
pedagogues want to impart to them by means of conver-
sations, I do not find the method chosen by them to be
correct.
Thus, for example, Mr. Bunakov has written a reader.
This book is to be used in conjunction with the conversa-
tions to teach the children language. I have run through
the book and have found it to be a series of bad language
blunders, wherever extracts from other books are not
quoted. The same complete ignorance of language I have
found in Mr. Evtushevski's problems. Mr. Evtush^vski
wants to give ideas by means of problems. First of all
he ought to have seen to it that the tool for the transmis-
sion of ideas, that is, the language, was correct.
What has been mentioned here refers to the form in
which the development is imparted. Let us look at the
260 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
contents themselves. Mr. Bunakov proposes the follow-
ing questions to be put to the children : " Where can you
see cats ? where a magpie ? where sand ? where a wasp
and a suslik ? what are a susHk and a magpie and a cat
covered with, and what are the parts of their bodies ? "
(The suslik is a favourite animal of pedagogy, no doubt
because not one peasant child in the centre of Russia
knows that word.)
" Naturally the teacher does not always put these
questions straight to the children, as forming the pre-
determined programme of the lesson ; more frequently the
small and undeveloped children have to be led up to
the solution of the question of the programme by a series
of suggestive questions, by directing their attention to the
side of the subject which is more correct at the given
moment, or by inciting them to recall something from
their previous observations. Thus the teacher need not
put the question directly : ' Where can a wasp be seen ? '
but, turning to this or that pupil, he may ask him whether
he has seen a wasp, where he has seen it, and then only,
combining the replies of several pupils, compose an answer
to the first question of his programme. In answering the
teacher's questions, the children will often connect several
remarks that have no direct relation to the matter; for
example, when the question is about what the parts of a
magpie are, one may say irrelevantly that a magpie jumps,
another that it chatters funnily, a third that it steals
things,— let them add and give utterance to everything
that arises in their memory or imagination, — it is the
teacbtr's business to concentrate their attention in accord-
ance with the programme, and these remarks and additions
of the children he should take notice of for the purpose
of elaborating the other parts of the programme. In
viewing a new subject, the children at every convenient
opportunity return to the subjects which have already
been under consideration. Since they have observed that
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 261
a magpie is covered with feathers, the teacher asks : ' Is
the suslik also covered with feathers ? What is it covered
with ? And what is a chicken covered with ? and a
horse ? and a lizard ? ' When they have observed that a
magpie has two legs, the teacher asks : ' How many legs
has a dog ? and a fox ? and a chicken ? and a wasp ?
What other animals do you know with two legs ? with
four ? with six ? ' "
Involuntarily the question arises : Do the children
know, or do they not know, what is so well explained
to them in these conversations ? If the pupils know it
all, then, upon occasion, in the street or at home, where
they do not need to raise their left hands, they will cer-
tainly be able to tell it in more beautiful and more correct
Eussian than they are ordered to do. They will certainly
not say that a horse is " covered " with wool ; if so, why
are they compelled to repeat these questions just as the
teacher has put them ? But if they do not know them
(which is not to be admitted except as regards the
suslik), the question arises : by what will the teacher be
guided in what is with so much unction called the pro-
gramme of questions, — by the science of zoology, or by
logic ? or by the science of eloquence ? But if by none
of the sciences, and merely by the desire to talk about
what is visible in the objects, there are so many visible
things in objects, and they are so diversified, that a guid-
ing thread is needed to show what to talk upon, whereas
in objective instruction there is no such thread, and there
can be none.
All human knowledge is subdivided for the pij^pose
that it may more conveniently be gathered, united, and
transmitted, and these subdivisions are called sciences.
But outside their scientific classifications you may talk
about objects anything you please, and you may say all
the nonsense imaginable, as we actually see. In any
case, the result of the conversation will be that the children
262 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
are either made to learn by heart the teacher's words
about the sushk, or to change their own words, place
them in a certain order (not always a correct order), and
to memorize and repeat them. For this reason all the
manuals of this kind, in general all the exercises of de-
velopment, suffer on the one hand from absolute arbitra-
riness, and on the other from superfluity. For example,
in Mr. Buuakov's book the only story which, it seems, is
not copied from another author, is the following :
" A peasant complained to a hunter about his trouble :
a fox had carried off several of his chickens and one duck ;
the fox was not in the least afraid of watch-dog Dandy,
who was chained up and kept barking all night long ; in
the morning he had placed a trap with a piece of roast
meat in the fresh tracks on the snow, — evidently the
red-haired sneak was disporting near the house, but he
did not go into the trap. The hunter listened to what
the peasant had to say to him, and said : ' Very well ;
now we will see who will be shrewder ! ' The hunter
walked all day with his gun and with his dog, over the
tracks of the fox, to discover how he found his way into
the yard. In the daytime the sneak sleeps in his lair,
and knows nothing of what is going on, so that had to be
considered : on its path the hunter dug a hole and covered
it with boards, dirt, and snow ; a few steps from it he
put down a piece of horseflesh. In the evening he seated
himself with a loaded gun in his ambush, fixed things in
such a way that he could see everything and shoot com-
fortably, and there he waited. It grew dark. The moon
swam out. Cautiously, looking around and listening, the
fox crept out of his lair, raised his nose, and sniffed. He
at once smelled the odour of horseflesh, and ran at a slow
trot to the place, and suddenly stopped and pricked his
ears : the shrewd one saw that there was a mound there
which had not been in that spot the previous evening.
This mound apparently vexed him, and made him think ;
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 'J 63
he took a large circle around it, and sniffed and listened,
and sat down, and for a long time looked at the meat from
a distance, so that the hunter could not shoot him, — it
was too far. The fox thought and thought, and suddenly
ran at full speed between the meat and the mound. Our
hunter was careful, and did not shoot. He knew that the
sneak was merely trying to find out whether anybody was
sitting behind that mound ; if he had shot at the running
fox, he would certainly have missed him, and then he
would not have seen the sneak, any more than he could
see his own ears. Now the fox quieted down, — the mound
no longer disturbed him: he walked briskly up to the
meat, and ate it with great dehght. Then the hunter
aimed carefully, without haste, so that he might not miss
him. Bang ! The fox jumped up from pain and fell
down dead "
Everything is arbitrary here : it is an arbitrary inven-
tion to say that a fox could carry off a peasant's duck in
winter, that peasants trap foxes, that a fox sleeps in the
daytime in his lair (for he sleeps only at night) ; arbitrary
is that hole which is uselessly dug in winter and covered
with boards without being made use of ; arbitrary is the
statement that the fox eats horseflesh, which he never
does ; arbitrary is the supposed cunning of the fox, who
runs past the hunter ; arbitrary are the mound and the
hunter, who does not shoot for fear of missing, that is,
everything, from beginning to end, is bosh, for which any
peasant boy might arraign the author of the story, if he
could talk without raising his hand.
Then a whole series of so-called exercises in Mr. Buna-
kov's lessons is composed of such questions as : " Who
bakes ? Who chops ? Who shoots ? " to which the pupil
is supposed to answer : " The baker, the wood-chopper,
and the marksmen," whereas he might just as correctly
answer that the woman bakes, the axe chops, and the
teacher shoots, if he has a gun. Another arbitrary state-
264 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
ment in that book is that the throat is a part of the
mouth, and so on.
All the other exercises, such as " The ducks fly, and
the dogs ? " or " The linden and birch are trees, and the
horse ? " are quite superfluous. Besides, it must be ob-
served that if such conversations are really carried on with
the pupils (which never happens) that is, if the pupils are
permitted to speak and ask questions, the teacher, choos-
ing simple subjects (they are most difficult), is at each
step perplexed, partly through ignorance, and partly be-
cause em Narr kann mehr fragen, als zehnWeise antworten.
Exactly the same takes place in the instruction of
arithmetic, which is based on the same pedagogical prin-
ciple. Either the pupils are informed in the same v/ay
of what they already know, or they are quite arbitrarily
informed of combinations of a certain character that are
not based on anything. The lesson mentioned above and
all the other lessons up to ten are merely information
about what the children already know. If they frequently
do not answer questions of that kind, this is due to the
fact that the question is either wrongly expressed in
itself, or wrongly expressed as regards the children.
The difficulty which the children encounter in answer-
ing a question of that character is due to the same
cause which makes it impossible for the average boy
to answer the question : Three sons were to Noah,^
— Shem, Ham, and Japheth, — who was their father?
The difficulty is not mathematical, but syntactical, which
is due to the fact that in the statement of the problem
and in the question there is not one and the same
subject; but when to the syntactical difficulty there is
added the awkwardness of the proposer of the problems
in expressing himself in Eussian, the matter becomes of
greater difficulty still to the pupil ; but the trouble is no
longer mathematical.
1 The Russian way of saying " Noah had three sons."
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 265
Let anybody understand at once Mr. Evtush^vski's
problem : " A certain boy had four nuts, another had five.
The second boy gave all his nuts to the first, and this one
gave three nuts to a third, and the rest he distributed
equally to three other friends. How many nuts did each
of the last get ? " Express the problem as follows : " A
boy had four nuts. He was given five more. He gave
away three nuts, and the rest he wants to give to three
f rieuds. How many can he give to each ? " and a child of
five years of age will solve it. There is no problem here
at all, but the difficulty may arise only from a wrong
statement of the problem, or from a weak memory. And
it is this syntactical difficulty, which the children over-
come by long and difficult exercises, that gives the teacher
cause to think that, teaching the children what they know
already, he is teaching them anything at all. Just as
arbitrarily are the children taught combinations in arith-
metic and the decomposition of numbers according to a
certain method and order, which have their foundation
only in the fancy of the teacher. Mr. Evtush^vski says :
" Four. (1) The formation of the number. On the
upper border of the board the teacher places three cubes
together — III. How many cubes are there here ? Then
a fourth cube is added. And how many are there now ?
1 1 1 1. How are four cubes formed from three and one ?
We have to add one cube to the three.
" (2) Decomposition into component parts. How can
four cubes be formed ? or. How can four cubes be broken
up ? Four cubes may be broken up into two and two :
1 1 + 1 1. Four cubes may be formed from one, and one,
and one, and one more, or by taking four times one cube :
I + I + I + I. Four cubes may be broken up into three
and one : 1 1 1 + I- It may be formed from one, and one,
and two : I + I + 1 1. Can four cubes be put together in
any other way ? The pupils convince themselves that
there can be no other decomposition, distinct from those
266 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
already given. If the pupils begin to break the foiQ
cubes in this way : one, two, and one, or, two, one and
one ; or, one and three, the teacher will easily point out
to them that these decompositions are only repetitions of
what has been got before, only in a different order.
" Every time, whenever the pupils indicate a new method
of decomposition, the teacher places the cubes on a ledge of
the blackboard in the manner here indicated. Thus there
will be four cubes on the upper ledge ; two and two in
a second place ; in a third place the four cubes will be
separated at some distance from each other ; in a fourth
place, three and one, and in a fifth one, one, and two.
" (3) Decomposition in order. It may easily happen
that the children will at once point out the decomposition
of the number into component parts in order ; even then
the third exercise cannot be regarded as superfluous :
Here we have formed four cubes of twos, of separate
cubes, and of threes, — in what order had we best place
the cubes on the board ? With what shall the decompo-
sition of the four cubes begin ? With the decomposition
into separate cubes. How are four cubes to be formed
from separate cubes ? We must take four times one cube.
How are four cubes to be formed from twos, from a pair ?
We must take two twos, — twice two cubes, two pairs of
cubes. How shall we afterward break up the four cubes ?
They can be formed of threes : for this purpose we take
three and one, or one and three. The teacher explains to
the pupils that the last decomposition, that is, 112,
does not come under the accepted order, and is a modifica-
tion of one of the first three."
Why does Mr. Evtush^vski not admit this last decom-
position ? Why must there be the order indicated by
him ? All that is a matter of mere arbitrariness and
fancy. In reality, it is apparent to every thinking man
that there is only one foundation for any composition and
decomposition, and for the whole of mathematics. Here
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 267
is the foundation : 1 + 1 = 2, 2 -f 1 = 3, 3 + 1 = 4, and
so forth, — precisely what the children learn at home,
and what in common parlance is called counting to ten,
to twenty, and so forth. This process is known to every
pupil, and no matter what decomposition Mr. Evtush^vski
may make, it is to be explained from this one. A boy
that can count to four, considers four as a whole, and so
also three, and two, and one. Consequently, he knows
that four w^as produced from the consecutive addition of
one. Similarly he knows that four is produced by adding
twice one to two, just as he knows twice one is two.
What, then, are the children taught here ? That which
they know, or that process of counting which they must
learn according to the teacher's fancy.
The other day I happened to witness a lesson in math-
ematics according to Grube's method. The pupil was
asked : " How much is 8 and 7 ? " He hastened to an-
swer and said 16. His neighbour, too, was in a hurry and,
without raising his left hand, said : " 8 and 8 is 16,
and one less is 15." The teacher sternly stopped him,
and compelled the first boy to add one after one to 8, until
he came to 15, though the boy knew long ago that he had
made a blunder. In that school they had reached the
number 15, but 16 was supposed to be unknown yet.
I am afraid that many people, reading all these long
refutals of the methods of object instruction and counting
according to Grube, which I am making, will say : " What
is there here to talk about ? Is it not evident that it is
all mere nonsense which it is not worth while to criti-
cize ? Why pick out the errors and blunders of a Buna-
kov and Evtush^vski, and criticize what is beneath all
criticism ? "
That was the way I myself thought before I was led to
see what was going on in the pedagogical world, when I
convinced myself that Messrs. Bunakov and Evtush^vski
were not mere individuals, but authorities in our pedagog-
268 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
ics, and that what they prescribe is actually carried out in
our schools. In the backwoods we may find teachers,
especially women, who spread Evtushevski's and Buna-
kov's manuals out before them and ask according to their
prescription how much one feather and one feather is, and
what a hen is covered with. All that would be funny if
it were only an invention of the theorist, and not a guide
in practical work, a guide that some follow already, and if
it did not concern one of the most important affairs of
life, — the education of the children. I was amused at
it when I read it as theoretical fancies ; but when I learned
and saw that that was being practised on children, I felt
pity for them and ashamed.
From a theoretical standpoint, not to mention the fact
that they faultily define the aim of education, the peda-
gogues of this school make this essential error, that they
depart from the conditions of all mstruction, whether this
instruction be on the highest or lowest stage of the science,
in a university or in a popular school. The essential con-
ditions of all instruction consist in selecting the homoge-
neous phenomena from an endless number of heterogeneous
phenomena, and in imparting the laws of these phenomena
to the students. Thus, in the study of language, the pu-
pils are taught the laws of the word, and in mathematics,
the laws of the numbers. The study of language consists
in imparting the laws of the decomposition and of the re-
verse composition of sentences, words, syllables, sounds, —
and these laws form the subject of instruction. The in-
struction of mathematics consists in imparting the laws
of the composition and decomposition of the numbers (but
I beg to observe, — not in the process of the composition
and the decomposition of the numbers, but in imparting
the laws of that composition and decomposition). Thus,
the first law consists in the ability of regarding a collec-
tion of units as a unit of a higher order, precisely what a
child does when he says : " 2 and 1 = 3." He regards 2
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 269
as a kind of unit. On this law are based the consequent
laws of numeration, then of addition, and of the whole
of mathematics. But arbitrary conversations about the
wasp, and so forth, or problems within the limit of 10,
— its decomposition in every manner possible, — can-
not form a subject of instruction, because, in the first
place, they transcend the subject and, in the second place,
because they do not treat of its laws.
That is the way the matter presents itself to me from
its theoretical side ; but theoretical criticism may fre-
quently err, and so I will try to verify my deductions by
means of practical data. G P has given us a
sample of the practical results of both object instruction
and of mathematics according to Grube's method. One
of the older boys was told : " Put your hand under your
book ! " in order to prove that he had been taught the
conceptions of " over " and " under," and the intelligent
boy, who, I am sure, knew what " over " and " under " was,
when he was three years old, put his hand on the book
when he was told to put it under it. I have all the time
observed such examples, and they prove more clearly than
anything else how useless, strange, and disgraceful, I feel
like saying, this object instruction is for Eussian children.
A Eussian child cannot and will not believe (he has too
much respect for the teacher and for himself) that the
teacher is in earnest when he asks him whether the ceil-
ing is above or below, or how many legs he has. In
arithmetic, too, w^e have seen that pupils who did not even
know how to write the numbers and during the whole
time of the instruction were exercised only in mental cal-
culations up to 10, for half an hour did not stop blunder-
ing in every imaginable way in response to questions
which the teacher put to them within the limit of 10.
Evidently the instruction of mental calculation brought
no results, and the syntactical difficulty, which consists in
unravelling a question that is improperly put, has remained
270 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
the same as ever. And thus, the practical results of the
examination which took place did not confirm the useful-
ness of the development.
But I will be more exact and conscientious. Maybe
the process of development, which at first is confined not
so much to the study, as to the analysis of what the pupils
know already, will produce results later on. Maybe the
teacher, who at first takes possession of the pupils' minds
by means of the analysis, later guides them firmly and
with ease, and from the narrow sphere of the descriptions
of a table and the count of 2 and 1 leads them into the real
sphere of knowledge, in which the pupils are no longer
confined to learning what they knew already, but also
learn something new, and learn that new information in
a new, more convenient, more intelligent manner. This
supposition is confirmed by the fact that all the German
pedagogues and their followers, among them Mr. Bunakov,
say distinctly that object instruction is to serve as an in-
troduction to " home science " and " natural science." But
we should be looking in vain in Mr. Bunakov's manual to
find out how this " home science " is to be taught, if by
this word any real information is to be understood, and
not the descriptions of a hut and a vestibule, — which the
children know already. Mr. Bunakov, on page 200, after
having explained that it is necessary to teach where the
ceiling is and where the stove, says briefly :
" Now it is necessary to pass over to the third stage of
object instruction, the contents of which have been de-
fined by me as follows : The study of the country, county,
Government, the whole realm with its natural products and
its inhabitants, in general outhne, as a sketch of home
science and the beginning of natural science, with the pre-
dominance of reading, which, resting on the immediate
observations of the first two grades, broadens the mental
horizon of the pupils, — the sphere of their concepts and
ideas. We can see from the mere definition that here the
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 271
objectivity appears as a complement to the explanatory
reading and narrative of the teacher, — consequently,
what is said in regard to the occupations of the third year
has more reference to the discussion of the second occu-
pation, which enters into the composition of the subject
under instruction, which is called the native language, —
the explanatory reading."
We turn to the third year, — the explanatory reading,
but there we find absolutely nothing to indicate how the
new information is to be imparted, except that it is good
to read such and such books, and in reading to put such
and such questions. The questions are extremely queer
(to me, at least), 8s, for example, the comparison of the
article on water by Ushinski and of the article on water
by Aksakov, and the request made of the pupils that they
should explain that Aksakov considers water as a phe-
nomenon of Nature, while Ushinski considers it as a sub-
stance, and so forth. Consequently, we find here again
the same foisting of views on the pupils, and of subdivi-
sions (generally incorrect) of the teacher, and not one word,
not one hint, as to how any new knowledge is to be
imparted.
It is not known what shall be taught : natural history,
or geography. There is nothing there but reading with
questions of the character I have just mentioned. On the
other side of the instruction about the word, — grammar
and orthography, — we should just as much be looking in
vain for any new method of instruction which is based on
the preceding development. Again the old Perevl^vski's
grammar, which begins with philosophical definitions and
then with syntactical analysis, serves as the basis of all
new grammatical exercises and of Mr. Bunakov's manual.
In mathematics, too, we should be looking in vain, at
that stage where the real instruction in mathematics be-
gins, for anything new and more easy, based on the
whole previous instruction of the exercises of the second
272 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
year up to 20. Where in arithmetic the real difficulties
are met with, where it becomes necessary to explain the
subject from all its sides to the pupil, as in numeration, in
addition, subtraction, division, in the division and multi-
plication of fractions, you will not find even a shadow of
anything easier, any new explanation, but only quotations
from old arithmetics.
The character of this instruction is everywhere one and
the same. The whole attention is directed toward teach-
ing the pupil what he already knows. And since the
pupil knows what lie is being taught, and easily recites in
any order desired what he is asked to recite by the
teacher, the teacher thinks that he is really teaching
something, and the pupil's progress is great, and the
teacher, paying no attention to what forms the real diffi-
culty of teaching, that is, to teaching something new,
most comfortably stumps about in one spot.
This explains why our pedagogical literature is over-
whelmed with manuals for object-lessons, with manuals
about how to conduct kindergartens (one of the most
monstrous excrescences of the new pedagogy), with pic-
tures and books for reading, in which are eternally repeated
the same articles about the fox and the blackcock, the
same poems which for some reason are written out in prose
in all kinds of permutations and with all kinds of explana-
tions ; but we have not a single new article for children's
reading, not one Eussian, nor Church-Slavic grammar, nor
a Church-Slavic dictionary, nor an arithmetic, nor a geog-
raphy, nor a history for the popular schools. All the
forces are absorbed in writing text- books for the instruc-
tion of children in subjects they need not and ought not
to be taught in school, because they are tpught them in
life. Of course, there is no end to the writing of such
books ; for there can be only one grammar and arithmetic,
but of exercises and reflections, like those I have quoted
from Bunakov, and of the orders of the decomposition of
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 273
numbers from Evtush^vski, there may be an endless
number.
Pedagogy is in the same condition in which a science
would be that would teach how a man ought to walk ;
and people would try to discover rules about how to teach
the children, how to enjoin them to contract this muscle,
stretch that muscle, and so forth. This condition of the
new pedagogy results directly from its two fundamental
principles : (1) that the aim of the school is development
and not science, and (2) that development and the means
for attaining it may be theoretically defined. From this
has consistently resulted that miserable and frequently
ridiculous condition in which the whole matter of the
schools now is. Forces are wasted in vain, and the
masses, who at the present moment are thirsting for edu-
cation, as the dried-up grass thirsts for rain, and are ready
to receive it, and beg for it, — instead of a loaf receive a
stone, and are perplexed to understand whether they were
mistaken in regarding education as something good, or
whether something is wrong in what is being offered to
them. That matters are really so there cannot be the
least doubt for any man who becomes acquainted with
the present theory of teaching and knows the actual con-
dition of the school among the masses. Involuntarily
there arises the question : how could honest, cultured
people, who sincerely love their work and wish to do
good, — for such I regard the majority of my opponents
to be, — have arrived at such a strange condition and be
in such deep error ?
This question has interested me, and I will try to com-
municate those answers which have occurred to me.
Many causes have led to it. The most natural cause
which has led pedagogy to the false path on which it now
stands, is the criticism of the old order, the criticism for
the sake of criticism, without positing new principles in
the plaoe of those criticized. Everybody knows that crit-
274 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
icizing is an easy business, and that it is quite fruitless
and frequently liarmful, if by the side of what is con-
demned one does not point out the principles on the basis
of which this condemnation is uttered. If I say that
such and such a thing is bad because I do not hke it, or
because everybody says that it is bad, or even because it is
really bad, but do not know how it ought to be right, the
criticism will always be useless and injurious. The views
of the pedagogues of the new school are, above all, based
on the criticism of previous methods. Even now, when it
seems there would be no sense in striking a prostrate
person, we read and hear in every manual, in every
discussion, " that it is injurious to read without comprehen-
sion ; that it is impossible to learn by heart the definitions
of numbers and operations with numbers ; that senseless
memorizing is injurious ; that it is injurious to operate
with thousands without being able to count 2-3," and so
forth. The chief point of departure is the criticism of
the old methods and the concoction of new ones to be as
diametrically opposed to the old as possible, but by no
means the positing of new foundations of pedagogy, from
which new methods might result.
It is very easy to criticize the old-fashioned method of
studying reading by means of learuiug by heart whole
pages of the psalter, and of studying arithmetic by memo-
rizing what a number is, and so forth. I will remark, in
the first place, that nowadays there is no need of attack-
ing these methods, because there will hardly be found
any teachers who would defend them, and, in the second
place, that if, criticizing such phenomena, they want to
let it be known that I am a defender of the antiquated
method of instruction, it is no doubt due to the fact that
my opponents, in their youth, do not know that nearly
twenty years ago I with all my might and main fought
against those antiquated methods of pedagogy and cooper-
ated in their abolition.
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 275
And thus it was found that the old methods of instruc-
tiou were not good for anything, and, without building any
new foundation, they began to look for new methods. I
say " without building any new foundation," because
there are only two permanent foundations of pedagogy :
(1) The determination of the criterion of what ought
to be taught, and (2) the criterion of how it has to be
taught, that is, the determination that the chosen subjects
are most necessary, and that the chosen method is the
best.
Nobody has even paid any attention to these founda-
tions, and each school has in its own justification in-
vented quasi-philosophical justificatory reflections. But
this " theoretical substratum," as Mr. Bunakov has
accidentally expressed himself quite well, cannot be re-
garded as a foundation. For the old method of instruc-
tion possessed just such a theoretical substratum.
The real, peremptory question of pedagogy, which
fifteen years ago I vainly tried to put in all its signifi-
cance, " Why ought we to know this or that, and how
shall we teach it ? " has not even been touched. The
result of this has been that as soon as it became apparent
that the old method was not good, they did not try to
find out what the best method would be, but immediately
set out to discover a new method which would be the
very opposite of the old one. They did as a man may do
who finds his house to be cold in winter and does not
trouble himself about learning why it is cold, or how to
help matters, but at once tries to find another house which
will as little as possible resemble the one he is living in.
I was then abroad, and I remember how I everywhere
came across messengers roving all over Europe in search
of a new faith, that is, officials of the ministry, studying
German pedagogy.
We have adopted the methods of instruction current
with our nearest neighbours, the Germans, in the first
276 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
place, because we are always prone to imitate the Ger-
mans ; in the second, because it was the most complicated
and cunning of methods, and if it comes to taking some-
thing from abroad, of course, it has to be the latest fashion
and what is most cunning ; in the third, because, in par-
ticular, these methods were more than any others opposed
to the old way. And thus, the new methods were taken
from the Germans, and not by themselves, but with a
theoretical substratum, that is, with a quasi-philosophical
justification of these methods.
This theoretical substratum has done great service.
The moment parents or simply sensible people, who busy
themselves with the question of education, express their
doubt about the efficacy of these methods, they are told :
" And what about Pestalozzi, and Diesterweg, and Denzel,
and Wurst, and methodics, heuristics, didactics, concen-
trism ? " and the bold people wave their hands, and say :
" God be with them, — they know better." In these Ger-
man methods there also lay this other advantage (the
cause why they stick so eagerly to this method), that
with it the teacher does not need to try too much, does
not need to go on studying, does not need to work over
himself and the methods of instruction. For the greater
part of the time the teacher teaches by this method what
the children know, and, besides, teaches it from a text-
book, and that is convenient. And unconsciously, in
accordance with an innate human weakness, the teacher
is fond of this convenience. It is very pleasant for me,
with my firm conviction that I am teaching and doing an
important and very modern work, to tell the children
from the book about the sushk, or about a horse's having
four legs, or to transpose the cubes by twos and by threes,
and ask the children how much two and two is ; but if,
instead of telling about the suslik, the teacher had to teU
or read something interesting, to give the foundations of
grammar, geography, sacred history, and of the four opera-
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 277
tions, he would at once be led to working over himself,
to reading much, and to refreshing his knowledge.
Thus, the old method was criticized, and a new one
was taken from the Germans. This method is so foreign
to our Eussian un-pedantic mental attitude, its monstrosity
is so glaring, that one would think that it could never
have been grafted on Kussia, and yet it is being applied,
even though only in a small measure, and in some way
gives at times better results than the old church method.
This is due to the fact that, since it was taken in our
country (just as it originated in Germany) from the criti-
cism of the old method, the faults of the former method
have really been rejected, though, in its extreme opposi-
tion to the old method, which, with the pedantry charac-
teristic of the Germans, has been carried to the farthest
extreme, there have appeared new faults, which are almost
greater than the former ones.
Formerly readiug was taught in Eussia by attaching to
the consonants useless endings (buhi — uki, vyedi — ycdi),
and in Germany es em de ce, and so forth, by attaching a
vowel to each consonant, now in front, and now behind,
and that caused some difficulty. Now they have fallen
into the other extreme, by trying to pronounce the con-
sonants without the vowels, which is an apparent impos-
sibility. In Ushinski's grammar (Ushinski is with us
the father of the sound method), and in all the manuals
on sound, a consonant is defined thus : " That sound
which cannot be pronounced by itself." And it is this
sound which the pupil is taught before any other. When
I remarked that it is impossible to pronounce h alone, but
that it always gives you hu, I was told that was due to
the inability of some persons, and that it took great skill
to pronounce a consonant. And I have myself seen a
teacher correct a pupil more than ten times, though he
seemed quite satisfactorily to pronounce short h, until at
last the pupil began to talk nonsense. And it is with
278 ON POPULAK EDUCATION
these h's, that is, sounds that cannot be pronounced, as
Ushinski defines them, or the pronunciation of which
demands special skill, that the instruction of reading
begins according to the pedantic German manuals.
Formerly syllables were senselessly learned by heart
(that was bad) ; diametrically opposed to this, the new
fashion enjoins us not to divide up into syllables at all,
which is absolutely impossible in a long word, and which
in reality is never done. Every teacher, according to the
sound method, feels the necessity of lettmg a pupil rest
after a part of a word, having him pronounce it separately.
Formerly they used to read the psalter, which, on account
of its high and deep style, is incomprehensible to the
children (which was bad) ; in contrast to this the children
are made to read sentences without any contents what-
ever, to explain intelligible words, or to learn by heart
what they cannot understand. In the old school the
teacher did not speak to the pupil at all ; now the teacher
is ordered to talk to them on anything and everything,
on what they know already, or what they do not need to
know. In mathematics they formerly learned by heart
the definition of operations, but now they no longer have
anything to do with operations, for, according to Evtu-
sh^vski, they reach numeration only in the third year, and
it is assumed that for a whole year they are to be taught
nothing but numbers up to ten. Formerly the pupils
were made to work with large abstract numbers, without
paying any attention to the other side of mathematics, to
the disentanglement of the problem (the formation of an
equation). Now they are taught solving puzzles, forming
equations with small numbers before they know numera-
tion and how to operate with numbers, though experience
teaches any teacher that the difficulty of forming equations
or the solution of puzzles are overcome by a general
development in life, and not in school.
It has been observed — quite correctly — that there
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 279
is no greater aid for a pupil, when he is puzzled by a
problem with large numbers, than to give him the same
problem with smaller numbers. The pupil, who in hfe
learns to grope through problems with small numbers, is
conscious of the process of solving, and transfers this
process to the problem with large numbers. Having ob-
served this, the new pedagogues try to teach only the
solving of puzzles with small numbers, that is, what can-
not form the subject of instruction and is only the work
of life.
In the instruction of grammar the new school has again
remained consistent with its point of departure, — with
the criticism of the old and the adoption of the diametri-
cally opposite method. Formerly they used to learn by
heart the definition of the parts of speech, and from ety-
mology passed over to syntax ; now they not only begin
with syntax, but even with logic, which the children are
supposed to acquire. According to the grammar of Mr.
Bunakov, which is an abbreviation of Perevl^vski's gram-
mar, even with the same choice of examples, the study of
grammar begins with syntactical analysis, which is so
difficult and, I will say, so uncertain for the Eussian lan-
guage, which does not fully comply with the classic forms
of syntax. To sum up, the new school has removed cer-
tain disadvantages, of which the chief are the superfluous
addition to the consonants and the memorizing of defini-
tions, and in this it is superior to the old method, and in
reading and writing sometimes gives better results ; but,
on the other hand, it has introduced new defects, which
are that the contents of the reading are most senseless and
that arithmetic is no longer taught as a study.
In practice (I can refer in this to all the inspectors of
schools, to all the members of school councils, who have
visited the schools, and to all the teachers), in practice, in
the majority of schools, where the German method is pre-
scribed, this is what takes place, with rare exceptiona
280 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
The children learn not by the sound system, but by the
method of letter composition ; instead of saying h, v, they
say bii, vu, and break up the words into syllables. The
object instruction is entirely lost sight of, arithmetic does
not proceed at all, and the children have absolutely noth-
ing to read. The teachers quite unconsciously depart
from the theoretical demands and fall in with the needs
of the masses. These practical results, which are repeated
everywhere, should, it seems, prove the incorrectness of
the method itself ; but among the pedagogues, those that
write manuals and prescribe rules, there exists such a com-
plete ignorance of and aversion to the knowledge of the
masses and their demands that the relation of reality to
these methods does not in the least impair the progress of
their business. It is hard to imagine the conception
about the masses which exists in this world of the peda-
gogues, and from which result their method and all the
consequent manner of instruction.
Mr. Bunakov, in proof of how necessary the object in-
struction and development is for the children of a Eussian
school, with extraordinary naivete adduces Pestalozzi's
words : " Let any one who has lived among the common
people," he says, " contradict my words that there is noth-
ing more difficult than to impart any idea to these crea-
tures. Nobody, indeed, gainsays that. The Swiss pastors
affirm that when the people come to them to receive in-
struction they do not understand what they are told, and
the pastors do not understand what the people say to them.
City dwellers who settle in the country are am.azed at the
inability of the country population to express themselves ;
years pass before the country servants learn to express
themselves to their masters." This relation of the com-
mon people' in Switzerland to the cultured class is assumed
as the foundation for just such a relation in Eussia.
I regard it as superfluous to expatiate on what is known
to everybody, that in Germany the people speak a special
ON POPULAK EDUCATION 281
language, called Plattdeutsch, and that in the German
part of Switzerland this Plattdeutsch is especially far re-
moved from the German language, whereas in Eussia we
frequently speak a bad language, while the masses always
speak a good Kussian, and that in Eussia it will be more
correct to put these words of Pestalozzi in the mouth of
peasants speaking of the teachers. A peasant and his boy
will say quite correctly that it is very hard to understand
what those creatures, meaning the teachers, say. The ig-
norance about the masses is so complete in this world of
the pedagogues that they boldly say that to the peasant
school come little savages, and therefore boldly teach them
what is down and what up, that a blackboard is placed on
a stand, and that underneath it there is a groove. They
do not know that if the pupils asked the teacher, there
would turn up very many things which the teacher would
not know ; that, for example, if you rub off the paint from
the board, nearly any boy will tell you of what kind of
wood the board is made, whether of pine, linden, or aspen,
which the teacher cannot tell ; that a boy will always tell
better than the teacher about a cat or a chicken, because
he has observed them better than the teacher ; that in-
stead of the problem about the wagons the boy knows the
problems about the crows, about the cattle, and about the
geese. (About the crows : There flies a flock of crows,
and there stand some oak-trees : if two crows alight on
each, a crow will be lacking ; if one on each, an oak-tree
will be lacking. How many crows and how many oak-
trees are there ? About the cattle : For one hundred
roubles buy one hundred animals, — calves at half a rou-
ble, cows at three roubles, and oxen at ten roubles. How
many oxen, cows, and calves are there ?) The pedagogues
of the German school do not even suspect that quickness
of perception, that real vital development, that contempt
for everything false, that ready ridicule of everything
false, which are inherent in every Eussian peasant boy, — ■
281J ON POPULAR EDUCATION
and only on that account so boldly (as I myself have
seen), under the fire of forty pairs of intelligent youthful
eyes, perform their tricks at the risk of ridicule. For this
reason, a real teacher, who knows the masses, no matter
how sternly he is enjoined to teach the peasant children
what is up and what down, and that two and three is five,
not one real teacher, who knows the pupils with whom
he has to deal, will be able to do that.
Thus, the chief causes which have led us into such
error are : (1) the ignorance about the masses ; (2) the
involuntarily seductive ease of teaching the children what
they already know ; (3) our proneness to imitate the
Germans, and (4) the criticism of the old, without putting
down a new, foundation. This last cause has led the
pedagogues of the new school to this, that, in spite of
the extreme external difference of the new method from
the old, it is identical with it in its foundation, and, con-
sequently, in the methods of instruction and in the results.
In either method the essential principle consists in the
teacher's firm and absolute knowledge of what to teach
and how to teach, and this knowledge of his he does not
draw from the demands of the masses and from ex-
perience, but simply decides theoretically once for all
that he must teach this or that and in such a way, and
so he teaches. The pedagogue of the ancient school, which
for briefness' sake I shall call the church school, knows
firmly and absolutely that he must teach from the prayer-
book and the psalter by making the children learn by
rote, and he admits no alterations in his methods; in the
same manner the teacher of the new, the German, school
knows firmly and absolutely that he must teach accord-
ing to Buuakov and Evtush^vski, begin with the words
" whisker " and " wasp," ask what is up and what down,
and tell about the favourite suslik, and he admits
no alterations in his method. Both of them base their
opinion on the firm conviction that they know the best
ON POPULAE EDUCATION 283
methods. From the identity of the foundations arises
also a further similarity. If you tell a teacher of the
church reading that it takes the children a long time and
causes them difficulty to acquii-e reading and writing, he
wdl reply that the main interest is not in the reading and
writing, but in the -' divine instruction," by which he
means the study of the church books. The same you will
be told by a teacher of Kussian reading according to the
German method. He will tell you (all say and write it)
that the main question is not the rapidity of the acquisi-
tion of the art of reading, writing, and arithmetic, but in
the " development." Both place the aim of instruction
in something independent of reading, writing, and arith-
metic, that is, of science, in something else, which is
absolutely necessary.
This similarity continues down to the minutest details.
In either method all instruction previous to the school, all
knowledge acquired outside the school, is not taken into
account, — all entering pupils are regarded as equally
ignorant, and all are made to learn from the beginning.
If a boy who knows the letters and the syllables a, he,
enters a church school, he is made to change them to
huki-az — ha. The same is true of the German school.
Just so, in either school it happens that some children
cannot learn the rudiments.
Just so, with either method, the mechanical side of
instruction predominates over the mental. In either
school the pupils excel in a good handwriting and good
enunciation with absolutely exact reading, that is, not as
it is spoken, but as it is written. Just so, with either
method, there always reigns an external order in the
school, and the children are in constant fear and can
be guided only with the greatest severity. Mr. KoroMv
has incidentally remarked that in instruction according
to the sound method blows are not neglected. I have
seen the same in the schools of the German method, and
284 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
I assume that without blows it is impossible to get along
even in the new German school, because, like the church
school, it teaches without asking what the pupil finds
interesting to know, but what, in the teacher's opinion,
seems necessary, and so the school can be based only on
compulsion. Compulsion is attained with children gen-
erally by means of blows. The church and the new
German school, starting from the same principles and
arriving at the same results, are absolutely identical.
But, if it came to choosing one of the two, I should still
prefer the church school. The defects are the same, but
ou the side of the church school is the custom of a thou-
sand years and the authority of the church, which is so
powerful with the masses.
Having finished the analysis and criticism of the Ger-
man school, I consider it necessary, — in view of what I
have said, namely, that criticism is fruitful only when,
condemning, it points out how that which is bad ought
to be, — I consider it necessary to speak of those founda-
tions of instruction which I regard as legitimate, and ou
which I rear my method of instruction.
In order to elucidate in what I find these unquestion-
able foundations of every pedagogical activity, I shall b<;
compelled to repeat myself, that is, to repeat what I said
fifteen years ago in the pedagogical periodical, Ydsnaya
Poly ana, which I then published. This repetition will
not be tedious for the pedagogues of the new school, be-
cause what 1 then wrote is not exactly forgotten, but has
never been considered by the pedagogues, — and yet I
still think that just what was expressed by me at that
time might have placed pedagogy, as a theory, on a firm
foundation. Fifteen years ago, when I took up the matter
of popular education without any preconceived theories or
views on the subject, with the one desire to advance the
matter in a direct and straightforward manner, I, as a
teacher in my school, was at once confronted with two
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 285
questions: (1) What must I teach? and (2) How must I
teach it ?
At that time, even as at the present, there existed
the greatest diversity of opinion in the answers to these
questions.
I know that some pedagogues, who are locked up in
their narrow theoretical world, think that there is no
other light than what peeps through the windows, and
that there is no longer any diversity of opinions.
I ask those who think so to observe that it only seems
so to them, just as it seems so to the circles that are
opposed to them. In the whole mass of people who
are interested in education, there exists, as it has existed
before, the greatest diversity of opinions. Formerly, just
as now, some, in reply to the question of wliat ought to
be taught, said that outside of the rudiments the most
useful information for a primary school is obtained from
the natural sciences ; others, even as now, that that was
not necessary, and was even injurious ; even as now, some
proposed history, or geography, while others denied their
necessity ; some proposed the Church-Slavic language and
grammar, and religion, while others found that, too, super-
fluous, and ascribed a prime importance to " development."
On the question of how to teach there has always been a
still greater diversity of answers. The most diversified
methods of instructing in reading and arithmetic have
been proposed.
In the bookstalls there were sold, side by side, the self-
teachers according to the huki-az — ha, Bunakov's lessons,
Zoiotov's charts, Madame Daragan's alphabets, and all
had their advocates. When I encountered these ques-
tions and found no answer for them in Eussian literature,
I turned to the literature of Europe. After having read
what had been written on the subject and having made
the personal acquaintance of the so-called best representa-
tives of the pedagogical science in Europe, I not only
286 ON POPULAE EDUCATION
failed to find anywhere an answer to the question I was
interested in, but I convinced myself that this question
does not even exist for pedagogy, as a science ; that every
pedagogue of any given school firmly believed that the
methods which he used were the best, because they were
based on absolute truth, and that it would be useless for
him to look at them with a critical eye.
However, because, as I said, I took up the matter of
popular education without any preconceived notions, or
because I took up the matter without prescribing laws
from a distance about how I ought to teach, but became
a schoolmaster in a village popular school in the back-
woods,— I could not reject the idea that there must of
necessity exist a criterion by means of which the question
could be solved : What to teach and how to teach it.
Should I teach the psalter by heart, or the classification
of the organisms ? Should I teach according to the
sound alphabet, translated from the German, or from the
prayer-book ? In the solution of this question I was
aided by a certain pedagogical tact, with which I am
gifted, and especially by that close and impassioned re-
lation in which I stood to the matter.
When I entered at once into the closest direct rela-
tions with those forty tiny peasants that formed my
school (I call them tiny peasants because I found in them
the same characteristics of perspicacity, the same im-
mense store of information from practical life, of jocular-
ity, simplicity, and loathing for everything false, which
distinguish the Eussian peasant), when I saw that sus-
ceptibility, that readiness to acquire the information
which they needed, I felt at once that the antiquated
church method of instruction had outlived its usefulness
and was not good for them. I began to experiment on
other proposed methods of instruction ; but, because com-
pulsion in education, both by my conviction and by my
character, are repulsive to me, I did not exercise any
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 287
pressure, and, the moment I noticed that something was
not readily received, I did not compel them, and looked
for something else. From these experiments it appeared
to me and to those teachers who instructed with me at
Yasnaya Polyana and in other schools on the same prin-
ciple of freedom, that nearly everything which in the
pedagogical vforld was written about schools was sepa-
rated by an immeasurable abyss from reality, and that
many of the proposed methods, such as object-lessons, the
natural sciences, the sound method, and others, called
forth contempt and ridicule, and were not accepted by the
pupils. We began to look for those contents and those
methods which were readily taken up by the pupils, and
struck that which forms my method of instruction.
But this method stood in a line with all other methods,
and the question of why it was better than the rest re-
mained as unsolved as before. Consequently, the ques-
tion of what the criterion was as to what to teach and
how to teach received an even greater meaning for me ;
only by solving it could I be convinced that what I
taught was neither injurious nor useless. This question
both then and now has appeared to me as a corner-stone
of the whole pedagogy, and to tho solution of this ques-
tion I devoted the pubhcation of the pedagogical peri-
odical Yasnaya Polydna. In several articles (I do not
renounce anything I then said) I tried to put the question
in all its significance and to solve it as much as I could.
At that time I found no sympathy in all the pedagogical
literature, not even any contradiction, but the most com-
plete indifference to the question which I put. There
were some attacks on certain details and trifles, but the
question itself evidently did not interest any one. I was
young then, and that indifference grieved me. I did not
understand that with my question, " How do you know
what to teach and how to teach ? " I was like a man
who, let us say, in a gathering of Turkish pashas discuss-
288 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
ing the question in what manner they may collect the
greatest revenue from the people, should propose to them
the following : " Gentlemen, in order to know how much
revenue to collect from each, we must first analyze the
question on what your right to exact that revenue is
hased." Obviously all the pashas would continue their
discussion of the measures of extortion, and would reply
only with silence to his irrelevant question. But the ques-
tion cannot be circumvented. Fifteen years ago no atten-
tion was paid to it, and the pedagogues of every school,
convinced that everybody else was talking to the wind
and that they were right, most calmly prescribed their
laws, basing their principles on philosophies of a very
doubtful character, which they used as a substratum for
their wee little theories.
And yet, this question is not quite so difficult if we
only renounce completely all preconceived notions. I
have tried to elucidate and solve this question, and, with-
out repeating those proofs, v/hich he who wishes may
read in the article, I will enunciate the results to which
I was led. " The only criterion of pedagogy is freedom,
the only method — experience." After fifteen years I have
not changed my opinion one hair's breadth ; hut I con-
sider it necessary to define with greater precision what I
understand by these words, not only in respect to educa-
tion in general, but also in respect to the particular
question of popular education in a primary school. One
hundred years ago the question what to teach and how to
teach could have had no place either in Europe or with
us. Education was inseparably connected with rehgion.
To learn reading meant to learn Holy Writ. In the
Mohammedan countries this relation of the rudiments
and religion still persists in its full force. To learn
means to learn the Koran, and, therefore, Arabic. But
the moment religion ceased to be the criterion of what
ought to be taught, and the school became independent of
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 289
it, this question had to arise. But it did not arise because
the school was not suddenly freed from its dependence
on religion, but by imperceptible steps. Now it is
accepted by everybody that religion cannot serve as the
contents, nor as an indication of the method of education,
and that education has different demands for its basis.
In what do these demands consist ? On what are they
based ? In order that these principles should be incon-
trovertible, it is necessary either that they be proved
philosophically, incontrovertibly, or that, at least, all edu-
cated people should be agreed on them. But is it so ?
There can be no doubt whatsoever about this, that in
philosophy have not been found those principles on which
could be built up the decision of what ought to be taught,
the more so since the matter itself is not an abstract, but
a practical affair, which depends on an endless number of
vital conditions. Still less can these principles be dis-
covered in the common consent of all men who busy
themselves with this matter, in the consent which we
may take as a practical foundation, as an expression of
the universal common sense. Not only in matters of pop-
ular, but even of liigher education do we see a complete
diversity of opinions among the best representatives of edu-
cation, as, for example, in the question of classicism and
realism. And yet, in spite of the absence of any founda-
tions, we see education proceeding on its own path and on
the whole being guided by only one principle, namely by
freedom. There exist side by side the classical and the
real school, each of which is prepared to regard itself as
the only natural school, and both satisfy some want, for
parents send their children to either.
In the popular school the right to determine what the
children shall learn, no matter from what standpoint we
may consider this question, belongs just as much to the
masses, that is, either to the pupils themselves, or to
the parents who send the children to school, and so the
290 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
answer to the question what the children are to be taught
in a popular school can be got only from the masses.
But, perhaps, we shall say that we, as highly cultured
people, must not submit to the demands of the rude
masses and that we must teach the masses what to wish.
Thus many think, but to that I can give this one an-
swer : give us a firm, incontrovertible foundation why
this or that is chosen by you, show me a society in which
the two diametrically opposed views on education do not
exist among the highly cultured people ; where it is not
eternally repeated that if education falls into the hands of
the clergy, the masses are educated in one sense, and if edu-
cation falls into the hands of the progressists, the people
are educated in another sense, — show me a state of soci-
ety where that does not exist, and I will- agree with you.
So long as that does not exist, there is no criterion except
the freedom of the learner, where, in matters of the popu-
lar school, the place of the learning children is taken by
their parents, that is, by the needs of the masses.
These needs are not only definite, quite clear, and
everywhere the same throughout Russia, but also so in-
telligent and broad that they include all the most diver-
sified demands of the people who are debating what the
masses ought to be taught. These needs are : the knowl-
edge of Russian and Church-Slavic reading, and calcula-
tion. The masses everywhere and always regard the
natural sciences as useless trifles. Their programme is
remarkable not only by its unanimity and firm defi-
niteness, but, in my opinion, also by the breadth of its
demands and the correctness of its view. The masses
admit two spheres of knowledge, the most exact and the
least subject to vacillation from a diversity of views, —
the languages and mathematics ; everything else they
regard as trifles. I think that the masses are quite cor-
rect, — in the first place, because in this knowledge there
can be no half information, no falseness, which they
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 291
cannot bear, and, in the second, because the sphere of
those two kinds of knowledge is immense. Eussian and
Church-Slavic grammar and calculation, that is, the knowl-
edge of one dead and one living language, with their
etymological and syntactical forms and their literatures,
and arithmetic, that is, the foundation of all mathemat-
ics, form their programme of knowledge, which, unfortu-
nately, but the rarest of the cultured class possess. In
the third place, the masses are right, because by this
programme they will be taught in the primary school
only what will open to them the more advanced paths
of knowledge, for it is evident that the thorough knowl-
edge of two languages and their forms, and, in addition
to them, of arithmetic, completely opens the paths to an
independent acquisition of all other knowledge. The
masses, as though feeling the false relation to them, when
they are offered incoherent scraps of all kinds of informa-
tion, repel that he from themselves, and say : " I need
know but this much, — the church language and my
own and the laws of the numbers, but that other knowl-
edge I will take myself if I' want it."
Thus, if we admit freedom as the criterion of what
is to be taught, the programme of the popular schools is
clearly and firmly defined, until the time when the
masses shall express some new demands. Church-Slavic
and Eussian and arithmetic to their highest possible
stages, and nothing else but that. That is the determi-
nation of the limits of the programme of the popular
school, which, however, does not presume that all three
subjects be introduced systematically. With such a pro-
gramme the attainment of symmetrical results in all three
subjects would naturally be desirable ; but it cannot be
said that the predominance of one subject over another
would be injurious. The problem consists only in keep-
ing within the limits of the programme. It may happen
that from the demands of the parents, and especially
292 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
from the knowledge of the teacher, this or that subject
will be more prominent, — with a clerical person the
Church-Slavic language, with a teacher from a county-
school — either Eussian or arithmetic ; in all these cases
the demands of the masses will be satisfied, and the in-
struction will not depart from its fundamental criterion.
The second part of the question, how to teach, that is,
how to discover which method is the best, has remained
just as unsolved.
Just as in the first part of the question of what to
teach, the assumption that on the basis of reflections it is
possible to build a programme of instruction leads to
contradictory schools, so it is also with the question as to
how to teach. Let us take the very first stage of the
teaching of reading. One asserts that it is easier to
teach so from cards ; another — according to the h, v
system ; a third — according to Korf ; a fourth — accord-
ing to the he, ve, ge system, and so forth. It is said that
the nuns teach reading in six weeks by the huki-az — ha
system. And every teacher, convinced of the superior-
ity of his method, proves this superiority either by the
fact that he teaches with it faster than others, or by
reflections of the character which Mr. Bunakov and the
German pedagogues adduce. At the present time, when
there are thousands of examples, we ought to know pre-
cisely by what to be guided in our choice. Neither
theory, nor reflections, nor even the results of instruction
can show this completely.
Education and instruction are generally considered in
the abstract, that is, the question is discussed how in the
best and easiest manner to produce a certain act of in-
struction on a certain subject (whether it be one child or
a mass of children). This view is quite faulty. All
education and instruction can be viewed only as a certain
relation of two persons or of two groups of persons hav-
ing for their aim education or instruction. This defini-
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 293
tion, more general than all the other definitions, has
special reference to popular education, where the question
is the education of an immense number of persons, and
where there can be no question about an ideal education.
In general, with the popular education we cannot put the
question, " How is the best education to be given ? " just
as with the question of the nutrition of the masses we
cannot ask how the most nutritious and best loaf is to be
baked. The question has to be put like this : " How is
the best relation to be estabhshed between given people
who want to learn and others who want to teach ? " or,
" How is the best bread to be made from given bolted
flour ? " Consequently the question of how to teach and
what is the best method is a question of what will be
the best relation between teacher and pupil.
Nobody, I suppose, will deny that the best relation
between teacher and pupil is that of naturalness, and that
the contrary relation is that of compulsion. If so, the
measure of all methods is to be found in the greater or
lesser naturalness of relations and, therefore, in the lesser
or greater compulsion in instruction. The less the chil-
dren are compelled to learn, the better is the method ; the
more — the worse. I am glad that I do not have to
prove this evident truth. Everybody is agreed that just
as in hygiene the use of any food, medicine, exercise, that
provokes loathing or pain, cannot be useful, so also in
instruction can there be no necessity of compelling chil-
dren to learn anything that is tiresome and repulsive to
them, and that, if necessity demands that children be
compelled, it only proves the imperfection of the method.
Any one who has taught children has no doubt observed
that the less the teacher himself knows the subject which
he teaches and the less he likes it, the more will he have
to have recourse to severity and compulsion ; on the con-
trary, the more the teacher knows and loves his subject,
the more natural and easy will his instruction be. With
294 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
the idea that for successful instruction not compulsion is
wanted, but the rousing of the pupil's interest, all the
pedagogues of the school which is opposed to me agree.
The only difierence between us is that the conception
that the teaching must rouse the child's interest is with
them lost in a mass of other conflicting notions about
" development," of the value of which they are convinced
and in which they exercise compulsion ; whereas I con-
sider the rousing of the pupil's interest, the greatest
possible ease, and, therefore, the non-compulsion and nat-
uralness of instruction as the fundamental and only meas-
ure of good and bad instruction.
Every progress of pedagogy, if we attentively consider
the history of this matter, consists in an ever increasing
approximation toward naturalness of relations between
teacher and pupil, in a lessened compulsion, and in a
greater ease of instruction.
The objection was formerly made and, I know, is made
even now that it is hard to find the limit of freedom
which shall be permitted in school. To this I will reply
that this limit is naturally determined by the teacher, his
knowledge, his ability to manage the school ; that this
freedom cannot be prescribed ; the measure of this freedom
is only the result of the greater or lesser knowledge and
talent of the teacher. This freedom is not a rule, but
serves as a check in comparing schools between them-
selves, and as a check in comparing new methods which
are introduced into the school curriculum. The schocl
in which there is less compulsion is better than the one in
which there is more. The method which at its introduc-
tion into the school does not demand an increase of disci-
pline is good ; but the one which demands greater severity
is certainly bad. Take, for example, a more or less free
scliool, such as mine was, and try to start a conversation
in it about the table and the ceiling, or to transpose cubes,
— you will see what a hubbub will arise in the schooJ
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 296
and how you will feel the necessity of restoring order by
means of severity ; try to tell them an interesting story,
or to give them problems, or make one write on the board
and let the others correct his mistakes, and allow them to
leave the benches, and you will find them all occupied
and there will be no naughtiness, and you will not have
to increase your severity, — and you may safely say that
the method is good.
In my pedagogical articles I have given theoretical
reasons why I find that only the freedom of choice on the
side of the learners as to what they are to be taught and
how can form a foundation of any instruction ; in prac-
tice I have always applied these rules in the schools
under my guidance, at first on a large scale, and later in
narrower limits, and the results have always been very
good, both for the teachers and the pupils, as also for
the evolution of new methods, — and tliis I assert boldly,
for hundreds of visitors have come to the Yasnaya Polyana
school and know all about it.
The consequences of such a relation to the pupils has
been for the teachers that they did not consider that
method best which they knew, but tried to discover other
methods, became acquainted with other teachers for the
purpose of learning their methods, tested new methods,
and, above all, were learning something all the time. A
teacher never permitted himself to think that in cases of
failure it was the pupils' fault, — their laziness, playful-
ness, dulness, deafness, stammering, — but was firmly
convinced that he alone was to blame for it, and for every
failure of a pupil or of all the pupils he tried to find a
remedy. For the pupils the result was that they learned
readily, always begged the teachers to give them evening
classes in the winter, and were absolutely free in the
school, — which, in my conviction and experience, is
the chief conchtion for successful progress in instruction.
Between teachers and pupils there were always estabhshed
296 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
friendly, natural relations, with which alone it is possible
for the teacher to know his pupils well. If, from a first,
external impression of the school, we were to determine
the difference between the church, the German, and my
own school, it would be this : in a church school you
hear a peculiar, unnatural, monotonous shouting of all the
pupils and now and then the stern cries of the teacher ;
in the German school you hear only the teacher's voice
and now and then the timid voices of the pupils ; in mine
you hear the loud voices of the teachers and the pupils,
almost simultaneously.
As for the methods of instruction the consequences
were that not one method of instruction was adopted or
rejected because it was liked or not, but only because it
was accepted or not by the pupils without compulsion.
But in addition to the good results which were always
obtained without fail from the application of my method
by myself and by everybody else (more than twenty
teachers), who taught according to my method (" without
fail " I say for the reason that not once did we have a
pupil who did not learn the rudiments), besides these
results, the application of the principles of which I have
spoken had the effect that during these fifteen years all
the various modifications, to which my method was sub-
jected, not only did not remove it from the needs of the
masses, but, on the contrary, brought it nearer and nearer
to them. The masses, at least in our parts, know the
method itself and discuss it, and prefer it to the church
method, which I cannot say of the sound method. In
the schools which are conducted according to my method
the teacher cannot remain motionless in his knowledge,
such as he is and must be with the method of sounds.
If a teacher according to the new German fasliion wants
to go ahead and perfect himself, he has to follow the
pedagogical literature, that is, to read all those new inven-
tions about the conversations about the suslik and about
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 297
the transposition of the squares. I do not think that
that can promote his personal education. On the con-
trary, in my school, where the subjects of instruction,
language and mathematics, demand positive knowledge,
every teacher, in advancing his pupils, feels the need of
learning himself, which was constantly the case with all
the teachers I had.
Besides, the methods of instruction themselves, which
are not settled once for all, but always strive to be as easy
and as simple as possible, are modified and improved from
the indications wliich the teacher discovers in the rela-
tions of the learners to his instruction.
The very opposite to this I see in what, unfortunately,
takes place in the schools of the German pattern, which
of late have been introduced in our country in an artificial
manner. The failure to recognize that before deciding
what to teach and how to teach we must solve the ques-
tion how we can find that out has led the pedagogues to
a complete disagreement with reality, and the abyss which
fifteen years ago was felt to exist between theory and
practice has now reached the farthest limits. Now that
the masses are on all sides begging for education, while
pedagogy has more than ever passed to personal fancies,
this discord has reached incredible proportions.
This discord between the demands of pedagogy and
reality has of late found its peculiarly striking expression
not only in the matter of instruction itself, but also in
another very important side of the school, namely in its
administration. In order to show in what condition this
matter has been and might be, I shall speak of Krapivensk
County of the Government of Tula, in which I live, which
I know, and which, from its position, forms the type of
the majority of counties of central Eussia.
In 1862 fourteen schools were opened in a district
of ten thousand souls, when I was rural judge ; besides,
there existed about ten schools in the district among the
298 ON poruLAR education
clericals and in the manors among the servants. In
the three remaining districts of the county there were
fifteen large and thirty small schools among the clericals
and manorial servants. Without saying anything about the
number of the learners, of which, I assume, there were in
general not less than now, nor about the instruction itself,
which was partly bad and partly good, but on the whole
not worse than at present, I will tell how and on what
that business was based.
All schools were then, with few exceptions, based on a
free agreement of the teacher with the parents of the
pupils, or with the whole partnership of the peasants pay-
ing a lump sum for everybody. Such a relation between
the parents or Communes and the teachers is even now
met with in some exceedingly rare places of our county
and of the Government in general. Everybody will agree
that, leaving aside the question of the quality of instruc-
tion, such a relation of the teacher to the parents and
peasants is most just, natural, and desirable. But, with
the introduction of the law of 1864, this relation was
abolished and is being abolished more and more. Every-
body who knows the matter as it is will observe that with
the abolition of this relation the people take less and less
part in the matter of their education, which is only natu-
ral. In some County Councils the school tax of the peas-
ants is even turned into the County Council, and the
salary, appointment of teachers, location of schools, — all
that is done quite independently of those for whom it is
intended (in theory the peasants, no doubt, are members
of the County Council, but in practice they have through
this mediation no influence on their own schools). No-
body will, I suppose, assert that that is just, but some
will say : " The illiterate peasants cannot judge what is
good and what bad, and we must build for them as well
as we can." But how do we know ? Do we know firmly,
are we all of one opinion, how to build schools ? And
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 299
does it not frequently turn out bad, for we have built
much worse than they have ?
Thus, in relation to the administrative side of the
schools I have again to put a third question, on the same
basis of freedom : Why do we know how best to arrange
a school ? To this question German pedagogy gives an
answer which is quite consistent with its whole system.
It knows what the best school is, it has formed a clear,
definite ideal, down to the minutest details, the benches,
the hours of instruction, and so forth, and gives an answer :
the school has to be such and such, according to this pat-
tern, — this alone is good and every other school is inju-
rious. I know that, although the desire of Henry IV. to
give each Frenchman soup and a chicken was unrealiz-
able, it was impossible to say that the desire was false.
But the matter assumes an entirely different aspect when
the soup is of a very questionable quality and is not a
chicken soup, but a worthless broth. And yet the so-
called science of pedagogy is in this matter indissolubly
connected with power ; both in Germany and with us
there are prescribed certain ideal one-class, two-class
schools, and so forth ; and the pedagogical and the admin-
istrative powers do not wish to know the fact that the
masses would like to attend to their own education. Let
us see how such a view of popular education has been re-
flected in practice on the question of education.
Beginning with the year 1862 the idea that education
was necessary has more and more spread among the
masses : on all sides schools were established by church
servants, hired teachers, and the Communes. Whether
good or bad, these schools were spontaneous and grew out
directly from the needs of the masses ; with the introduc-
tion of the law of 1864 this tendency was increased, and
in 1870 there were, according to the reports, about sixty
schools in Krapivensk County. Since then officials of
the ministry and members of the County Council have
300 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
begun to meddle more and more with school matters, and
in Krapivensk County forty schools have been closed
and schools of a lower order have been prohibited from
being opened. I know that those who closed those
schools affirm that these schools existed only nominally
and were very bad ; but I cannot believe it, because I
know well-instructed pupils from three villages, Trosna,
Lamintsovo, and Yasnaya Polyaua, where schools were
closed. I also know — and this will seem incredible to
many — what is meant by prohibiting the opening of
schools. It means that, on the basis of a circular of the
ministry of public instruction, which spoke of the prohi-
bition of unreliable teachers (this, no doubt, had reference
to the Nihilists), the school council transferred this pro-
hibition to the minor schools, taught by sextons, soldiers,
and so forth, which the peasants themselves had opened,
and which, no doubt, are not at all comprised in the cir-
cular. But, instead, there exist twenty schools with
teachers, who are supposed to be good because they
receive a salary of two hundred roubles in silver, and the
County Council has distributed Ushinski's text-books, and
these schools are called one-class schools, because they
teach in them according to a programme, and the whole
year around, that is, also in summer, with the exception of
July and August.
Leaving aside the question of the quality of the former
schools, we shall now take a glance at their administrative
side, and we will compare, from this side, what was
before, with what is now. In the administrative, ex-
ternal side of the school there are five main subjects,
which are so closely connected with the school business
itself that on their good or bad structure depend to a
great extent the success and dissemination of popular
education. These five subjects are: (1) the school build-
ing, (2) the schedule of instruction, (3) the distribution of
the schools according to localities, (4) the choice of the
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 301
teacher, and — what is most important — (5) the mate-
rial means, the remuneration of the teachers.
In regard to the school building the masses rarely have
any difficulty, when they start a school for themselves,
and if the Commune is rich and there are any communal
buildings, such as a storehouse or a deserted inn, the Com-
mune lixes it up ; if there is none, it buys a building, at
times even from a landed proprietor, or it builds one of
its own. If the Commune is not well-to-do and is small,
it hires quarters from a peasant, or establishes a rotation,
and the teacher passes from hut to hut. If the Com-
mune, as it most generally does, selects a teacher from its
own midst, a manorial servant, a soldier, or a church
servant, the school is located at the house of that person,
and the Commune looks only after the heating. In any
case, I have never heard that the question of the location
of the school ever troubled a Commune, or that half the
sum set aside for instruction should be lost, as is done by
school councils, on the buildings, nay, not even one-sixth
or one-tenth of the w^hole sum. The peasant Communis
have arranged it one way or another, but the question of
the school building has never been regarded as trouble-
some. Only under the influence of the higher authorities
do there occur cases where the Communes build brick
buildings with iron roofs. The peasants assume that the
school is not in the structure, but in the teacher, and that
the school is not a permanent institution, but that as soon
as the parents have acquired knowledge, the next genera-
tion will get the rudiments without a teacher. But the
County Council department of the ministry always as-
sumes — since for it the whole problem consists in
inspecting and classifying — that the chief foundation of
the school is the structure and that the school is a per-
manent establishment, and so, as far as I know, now
spends about one-half of its money on buildings, and
inscribes empty school buildings iu the list of the schools
302 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
of the third order. In the Krapivensk County Council
seven hundred roubles out of two thousand roubles are
spent on buildings. The ministerial department cannot
admit that the teacher (that educated pedagogue who is
assumed for the masses) would lower himself to such an
extent as to be willing to go, like a tailor, from hut to hut,
or to teach in a smoky house. But the masses assume
nothing and only know that for their money they can
hire whom they please, and that, if they, the hiring peas-
ants, live in smoky huts, the hired teacher has no reason
to turn up his nose at them.
In regard to the second question, about the division of
the school time, the masses have always and everywhere
invariably expressed one demand, and that is that the
instruction shall be carried on in the winter only.
Everywhere the parents quit sending their children in
the spring, and those children who are left in the school,
from one-fourth to one-fifth of the whole number, are the
little tots or the children of rich parents, and they attend
school unwillingly. When the masses hire a teacher
themselves, they always hire him by the month and only
for the winter. The ministerial department assumes that,
just as in the institutions of learning there are two
months of vacation, so it ought also to be in a one-class
country school. From the standpoint of the ministerial
department that is quite reasonable : the children will not
forget their instruction, the teacher is provided for during
the whole year, and the inspectors find it more comfort-
able to travel in the summer ; but the masses know noth-
ing about all that, and their common sense tells them
that in winter the children sleep for ten hours, conse-
quently their minds are fresh ; that in winter there are no
plays and no work for the children, and that if they study
in winter as long as possible, taking in even the evenings,
for which a lamp costing one rouble fifty kopeks is needed
and kerosene costing as much, there will be enough in-
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 303
struction. Besides, in the summer every boy is of use to
the peasant, and in summer proceeds the life instruction,
which is more important than school learning. The
masses say that there is no reason why they should pay
the teacher during the summer. " Eather will we increase
his pay for the winter months, and that will please him
better. We prefer to hire a teacher at twenty-five roubles
a month for seven months, than at twelve roubles a
month for the whole year. For the summer the teacher
will hire himself out elsewhere."
As to the third question, the distribution of the schools
according to localities, the arrangements of the masses
most markedly differ from those of the school council.
In the first place, the distribution of the schools, that is,
whether there shall be more or less of them for a certain
locality, always depends on the character of the whole
population (when the masses themselves attend to it).
Wherever the masses are more industrial and work out,
where they are nearer to the cities, where they need the
rudiments, — there there are more schools ; where the local-
ity is more removed and agricultural, there there are fewer
of them. In the second place, when the masses themselves
attend to the matter, they distribute the schools in such a
way as to ^ive all the parents a chance to make use of the
schools in return for their money, that is, to send their chil-
dren to school. The peasants of small, remote villages of
from thirty to forty souls, where half the population will be
found, prefer to have a cheap teacher in their own vil-
lage, than an expensive one in the centre of the township,
whither their children cannot walk or be driven. By
this distribution of the schools, the schools themselves,
as arranged by the peasants, depart, it is true, from the
required pattern of the school, but, instead, acquire the
most diversified forms, everywhere adapting themselves to
local conditions. Here a clerical person from a neighbour-
ing village teaches eight boys at his house, receiving fifty
304 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
kopeks a month from each. Here a small village hires a
soldier for eight roubles for the winter, and he goes from
house to house. Here a rich innkeeper hires a teacher
for his children for five roubles and board, and the neigh-
bouring peasants join him, by adding two roubles for each
of their boys. There a large village or a compact town-
ship levies fifteen kopeks from each of the twelve hun-
dred souls and hires a teacher for 180 roubles for the
winter. There the priest teaches, receiving as a remuner-
ation either money, or labour, or both. The chief differ-
ence in this respect between the view of the peasants and
that of the County Council is this : the peasants, accord-
ing to the more or less favourable local conditions, intro-
duce schools of a better or worse quality, but always in
such a way that there is not a single locality where some
kind of instruction is not offered ; while with the arrange-
ment of the County Council a large half of the population
is left outside every possibihty of partaking of that edu-
cation even in the distant future.
In matters of the petty villages, forming one-half of
the population, the ministerial department acts most de-
cisively. It says : " We provide schools where there is a
building and where the peasants of the township have
collected enough money to support a teacher at two hun-
dred roubles. We will contribute from the County Coun-
cil what is wanting, and the school is entered on the
lists." The villages that are removed from the school may
send their children there, if they so wish. Of course, the
peasants do not take their children there, because it is too
far, and yet they pay. Thus, in the Yasenets township
all pay for three schools, but only 450 souls in three
villages make use of the school, though there are in all
three thousand souls ; thus, only one-seventh of the popu-
lation makes use of the school, though all pay for it. In
the Chermoshen township there are nine hundred souls
and there is a school there, but only thirty pupils attend
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 805
it, because all the villages of that township are scattered.
To niae hundred souls there ought to be four hundred
pupils. And yet, both in the Yasenets and the Cher-
mosben townships the question of the distribution of
schools is regarded as satisfactorily solved.
In matters of the choice of a teacher, the masses are
again guided by quite different views from the County
Council. In choosing a teacher, the masses look upon
him in their own way, and judge him accordingly. If
the teacher has been in the neighbourhood, and the masses
know what the results of his teaching are, they value him
according to these results as a good or as a bad teacher ;
but, in addition to the scholastic qualities, the masses
demand that the teacher shall be a man who stands in
close relations to the peasant, able to understand his hfe
and to speak Russian, and so they will always prefer a
country to a city teacher. In doing so, the masses have
no bias and no antipathy toward any class in particular :
he may be a gentleman, official, burgher, soldier, sexton,
priest, — that makes no difference so long as he is a
simple man and a Russian. For this reason the peasants
have no cause for excluding clerical persons, as the
County Councils do. The County Councils select their
teachers from among strangers, getting them from the
cities, while the masses look for them among themselves.
But the chief difference in this respect between the view
of the Communes and that of the County Council consists
in this : the County Council has only one type, — the
teacher who has attended pedagogical courses, who has
finished a course in a seminary or school, at two hundred
roubles ; but with the masses, who do not exclude this
teacher and appreciate him, if he is good, there are grada-
tions of all kinds of teachers. Besides, with the majority
of school councils there are definite favourite types of
teachers, for the most part such as are foreign to the
masses and antagonistic to them, and other types which
306 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
the school councils dislike. Thus, evidently, the favourite
type of many counties of the Government of Tula are
lady teachers ; the disliked type are the clerical persons,
and in the whole of the Tula and Krapivensk counties
there is not one school with a teacher from the clergy,
which is quite remarkable from an administrative point
of view. In Krapivensk County there are fifty parishes.
The clerical persons are the cheapest of teachers, because
they are permanently settled and for the most part can
teach in their own houses with the aid of their wives and
daughters, — and these are, it seems, purposely avoided,
as though they were very harmful people.
In matters of the remuneration of the teachers, the
difference between the view of the masses and that of
the County Council has almost all been expressed in the
preceding pages. It consists in this: (1) the masses
choose a teacher according to their means, and they admit
and know from experience that there are teachers at all
prices, from two puds of flour a month to tliirty roubles a
month ; (2) teachers are to be remunerated for the winter
mouths, for those during which there can be some instruc-
tion ; (3) the masses, in the housing of the school as also
in matters of the remuneration of the teachers, always
know how to find a cheap way : they give flour, hay, the
use of carts, eggs, and all kiuds of trifles, which are imper-
ceptible to the world at large, but which improve the
teacher's condition ; (4) above all, a teacher is paid, or is
remunerated in addition to the payment, by the parents
of the pupils, who pay by the month, or by the whole
Commune which enjoys the advantages of the school, and
not by the administration that has no direct interest in
the matter.
The ministerial department cannot act differently in this
respect. The norm of the salary for a model teacher is
given, consequently these means have to be got together
in some way. For example : a Commune intends to open
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 307
a school, — the township gives it a certain number of
kopeks per soul. The County Council calculates how
much to add. If there are no demands made by other
schools, it gives more, sometimes twice as much as the
Commune has given ; at times, when all the money has
been distributed, it gives less, or entirely refuses to give
any. Thus, there is in Krapivensk County a Commune
which gives ninety roubles, and the County Council adds
to that three hundred roubles for a school with an assist-
ant; and there is another Commune which gives 250
roubles, and the County Council adds another fifty roubles ;
and a third Commune which offers fifty-six roubles, and
the County Councd refuses to add anything or to open the
school, because that money is insufficient for a normal
school, and all the money has been distributed.
Thus, the chief distinctions between the administrative
view of the masses and that of the County Council are
the following: (1) the County Council pays great atten-
tion to the housing and spends large sums upon it, while
the masses obviate this difficulty by domestic, economic
means, and look upon the primary schools as temporary,
passing institutions ; (2) the ministerial department de-
mands that instruction be carried on during the whole
year, with the exception of July and August, and nowhere
introduces evening classes, while the masses demand that
instruction be carried on only in the winter and are fond
of evening classes ; (3) the ministerial department has a
definite type of teachers, without which it does not recog-
nize the school, and has a loathing for clerical persons
and, in general, for local instructors ; the masses recognize
no norm and choose their teachers preferably from local
inhabitants ; (4) the ministerial department distributes
the schools by accident, that is, it is guided only by the
desire of forming a normal school, and has no care for
that greater half of the population which under such
a distribution is left outside the school education ; the
308 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
masses not only recognize no definite external form of
the school, but in the greatest variety of ways get teachers
with all kinds of means, arranging worse and cheaper
schools with small means and good and expensive schools
with greater means, and turn their attention to furnishing
all locahties with instruction in return for their money ;
(5) the ministerial department determines one measure of
remuneration, which is sufficiently high, and arbitrarily
increases the amount from the County Council ; the
masses demand the greatest possible economy and distrib-
ute the remuneration in such a way that those whose
children are taught pay directly.
It seems as though it would -be superfluous to expatiate
on how clearly the common sense of the masses is ex-
pressed in these demands, in contradistinction to that
artificial structure, in which, at its very birth, they are
trying to imprison the business of ' popular education.
Even besides this, the feeluig of justice is involuntarily
provoked against such an order of things. See what is
taking place. The masses have felt the necessity of edu-
cation, and have begun to work in the direction of attain-
ing their end. In addition to all the taxes which they
pay, they have voluntarily imposed upon themselves the
tax for education, that is, they have begun to hire teachers.
What have we done? "Oh, you are able to pay," we
said, " wait, then, for you are stupid and rude. Let us
have the money, and we will arrange it for you in the
best manner possible."
The masses have given up their money (as I have said,
in many County Councils the levy for the schools has
been turned directly into a tax). The money was taken,
and the education was arranged for them.
I am not going to repeat about the artificiality of the
education, but how the whole matter has been arranged.
In Krapivensk County there are forty thousand souls,
including girls, according to the last census. According
ON popul.4lR education 309
to Bunyakovski's table of the distribution of ten thousand
of the Orthodox population for the year 1862, there
ought to be, of the male sex between six and fourteen
years, 1,834, and of the female sex, 1,989, — in all 3,823
to each ten thousand. According to my own observations,
there ought to be more, no doubt on account of the in-
crease of the population, so that the average school popu-
lation may boldly be put at four thousand. In a school
there are, on an average, in the large centres, about sixty
pupils, and in the smaller, from ten to twenty-five. In
order that all may receive instruction, the smaller centres,
forming the greater half- of the population, need schools
for ten, fifteen, and twenty pupils, so that the average of
a school, in my opinion, would be not more than thirty
pupils. How many schools are, then, needed for sixteen
thousand pupils ? Divide sixceen thousand by thirty, and
we get 530 schools. Let us assume that, although at the
opening of the schools all pupils from seven to fifteen
years of age will enter, not all will attend regularly for
the period of eight years ; let us reject one-fourth, that is
130 schools and, consequently, 4,200 pupils. Let us say
that there are four hundred schools. Only twenty have
been opened. The County Council gives two thousand
roubles and has added one thousand roubles, making in
all three thousand roubles. From some of the peasants,
not from all, fifteen kopeks are levied from each soul, in
all about four thousand roubles. On the building of
schools seven hundred roubles are spent, and on the peda-
gogical courses twelve hundred roubles have been used in
one year. But let us suppose that the County Council
will act quite simply and sensibly, and will not waste
money on pedagogical courses and other trifles ; let us
suppose that all peasants will pay the new school tax
of fifteen kopeks, what will the future of this matter be?
From the peasants six thousand, from the County Council
three thousand, in all nine thousand. Let us assume that
310 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
ten more schools will be added. Nine thousand roubles
will barely suffice for the support of these schools, and
that only in case the school council will act most
prudently and economically. Consequently, with the
County Council administration, thirty schools to forty
thousand of the population are the highest limit of what
the dissemination of the schools in the county may reach.
And this limit of the school business can be attained only
if the peasants will levy fifteen kopeks on each soul, which
is extremely doubtful, and if the disbursement of this
money will be in the hands of the peasants, and not of
the County Council. I do not speak of the possible in-
crease of three thousand roubles, because this increase
of three thousand roubles partly falls back on those same
peasants, and on the other hand is not secured by any-
thing, forming only an accidental means. Thus, in order
to bring the business of popular education to the state in
which it ought to be, that is, in order that there shall be
four hundred schools to the forty thousand of the popula-
tion, and in order that the schools shall not be a toy, but
may answer a real want of the masses, there is no other
issue than that the peasants be taxed, not fifteen kopeks,
but three roubles a soul, in order that the necessary three
hundred roubles to each school be obtained. Even then
I do not see any reason for thinking that as many schools
as are needed would be built.
Do we not see that now, when the simplest arithmeti-
cal calculation shows that the only means for the success
of the schools is the simplification of methods, the sim-
plicity and cheapness of the arrangement of the school, —
the pedagogues are busy, as though having made a wager
to concoct a most difficult, most complicated, and expen-
sive (and, I must add, most bad) instruction ? In the
manuals of Messrs. Bunakov and Evtush^vski I have
figured up three hundred roubles' worth of aids to instruc-
tion which, in their opinion, are absolutely necessary for
ON POPUI<AR EDUCATION 311
the establishment of a primary school. All they talk
about in pedagogical circles is how to prepare improved
teachers in the seminaries, so that a village might not be
able to get them even for four hundred roubles. On that
road of perfection, on which pedagogy stands, it is quite
apparent to me that if 120,000 roubles were collected in
a county, the pedagogues would find use for them all in
twenty schools, with adjustable tables, seminaries for
teachers, and so forth. Have we not seen that forty
schools were closed in Krapivensk County, and that those
who closed them were fully convinced that they thus
advanced the cause of education, for now they have
twenty " good " schools ? But what is most remarkable
is that those who express these demands are not in the
least interested in knowing whether the masses for whom
they are preparing all these things want them, and still
less, who is going to pay for it all. But the County
Councils are so befogged by these demands that they do
not see the simple calculation and the simple justice.
It is as though a man asked me to buy him two puds of
flour for a month, and I bought him for that rouble a box
of perfumed confectionery and reproached him for his
ignorance, because he was dissatisfied.
As I wish to remain true to my rule that criticism
should point out how that which is not good ought to be,
I shall try to show how the whole school business ought
to be arranged, if it is not to be a plaything, and is to
have a future. The answer is the same as to the first two
questions, — freedom. The masses must be given the
freedom to arrange their schools as they v/ish, and as
little as possible should any one interfere in their arrange-
ment. Only with such a view of the matter will all the
obstacles to the dissemination of the schools be obviated,
though they have seemed insuperable. The chief obsta-
cles are the insufficiency of the means and the impossi-
bility of increasing them. To the first the masses reply
312 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
that they are using all the measures at their command to
make the schools cost little ; to the second they reply
that the means will always be found so long as they
themselves are the masters, and that they are not willing
to increase the means for the support of that which they
do not need.
The essential difference between the view of the people
and of the ministerial department consists in the follow-
ing : (1) In the opinion of the masses there is no one
definite norm and form of the school, outside and below
which the school is not recognized, as is assumed by the
ministerial department ; a school may be of any kind,
either a very good and expensive one, or a very poor and
cheap one, but even in a very poor one reading and writ-
ing may be learned, and, as in a richer parish a better
pope is appointed and a better church built, so also may
a better school be built in a wealthy village, and a poorer
school in a less well-to-do village; but just as one can
pray equally well in a poor or in a rich parish, even so it
is with learning. (2) The masses regard as the first con-
dition of their education an even, equal distribution of
this education, though it be in its lowest stage, and then
only they propose a further, again an even, raising of the
level of education, while the ministerial department con-
siders it necessary to give to a certain chosen few, to one-
twentieth of the v/hole number, a specimen of education,
to show them how nice it is. (3) The ministerial depart-
ment, either unable or purposely unwilling to calculate,
has raised the educational business to such a high, expen-
sive level, and one Vvliich is so foreign to the masses, that
considering the high price at which the education is
acquired, no issue from that situation can be foreseen, and
the number of learners can never be increased ; but the
masses, who know how to calculate, and who are inter-
ested in that calculation, have no doubt long ago figured
out what I have pointed out above, and see as clear as
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 313
daylight that those expensive schools, which cost as much
as four hundred roubles each, may be good indeed, but
are not what they need, and try in every way possible to
diminish the expenses for their schools.
What, then, is to be done ? How are the County
Councils to act in order that this business may not be a
plaything and a pastime, but shall have a future ? Let
them conform with the needs of the masses, and, so far
as possible, cheapen and free the forms of the school, and
afford the Communes the greatest possible power in fehe
establishment of the schools.
For this it is necessary that the County Councils shall
entirely abandon the distribution of the taxes to the
schools and the distribution of the schools according to
localities, but shall leave this distribution to the peasants
themselves. The determination of the pay to the teacher,
the hiring, purchase, or building of the house, the choice
of place and of the teacher himself, — all that ought to
be left to the peasants. The County Council, that is, the
school council, should only demand that the Communes
inform it where and on what foundations schools have
been estabhshed, not in order that, upon learning the
facts, it shall prohibit them, as is done now, but in order
that, learning about the conditions under which the
school exists, it may add (if the conditions are in con-
formity with the demands of the council) from its County
Council's sums, for the support of the school newly
founded, a certain, definite part of what the school costs
the Commune : a half, a third, a fourth, according to the
quality of the school and the m6ans and wishes of the
County Council. Thus, for example, a village of twenty
souls hires a transient man at two roubles a month to
teach the children. The school council, that is, a person
authorized by it, of whom I shall speak later, upon receiv-
ing that information, invites the transient to come to him,
asks him what he knows and how he teaches, and, if the
314 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
transient is the least bit educated and does not represent
anything harmful, apportions to him the amount deter-
mined upon by the County Council, one-half, one-third, or
one-fourth, in precisely the same way the school council
proceeds in reference to a clerical person hired by the
Commune at five roubles per month, or in reference to
a teacher hired at fifteen roubles per month. Of course,
that is the way the school council acts in reference to the
teachers hired by the Communes themselves ; but if the
Communes turn to the school council, the latter recom-
mends to them teachers under the same conditions. But
in doing so the County Council must not forget that there
should not be merely teachers at two hundred roubles ;
the school council should be an employment agency for
teachers of every description and of every price, from one
rouble to thirty roubles a month. On buildings the school
council ought not to spend or add anything, because they
are one of the most unproductive items of expense. But
the County Council ought not to disdain, as it now does,
teachers at two, three, four, five roubles per mouth and
locations in smoky huts or by rotation from farm to farm.
The County Council ought to remember that the proto-
type of the school, that ideal toward which it ought to
tend, is not a stone building with an iron roof, with black-
boards and desks, such as we see in model schools, but
the very hut in which the peasant lives, with those
benches and tables on which he eats, and not a teacher
in a Prince Albert or a lady teacher in a chignon, but a
male teacher in a caftan and shirt, or a female teacher in
a peasant skirt and with a kerchief on her head, and not
with one hundred pupils, but with five, six, or ten.
The County Council must have no bias or antipathy
for certain types of teachers, as is the case at present.
Thus, for example, the Tiila County Council just now has
a special bias for the type of school-teachers from the
gymnasia and clerical schools, and the greater part of
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 315
the schools in Tula County are in their charge. In
Krapivensk County there exists a strange antipathy for
teachers from the clerical profession, so that in this
county, where there are as many as fifty parishes, there
is not one clerical person employed as a teacher. The
County Council, in proposing a teacher, ought to be guided
by two chief considerations : in the first place, that the
teacher should be as cheap as possible ; in the second,
that by his education he should stand as near to the
masses as possible. Only thanks to the opposite view
on the matter can be explained such an inexplicable phe-
nomenon as that in Krapivensk County (almost the same
is true of the whole Government and of the majority of
Governments) there are fifty parishes and twenty schools,
and that for these twenty schools tbere is not a single
clerical teacher, although there is not a parish where a
priest, or a deacon, or a sexton, or their daughters and
wives could not be found, who would not be glad to do
the teaching for one-fourth the pay that the teachers
coming from the city would be willing to take.
But I shall be told : What kind of schools will those
be with bigots, drunken soldiers, expelled scribes, and
sextons ? And what control can there be over those form-
less schools ? To this I will reply that, in the first place,
these teachers, bigots, soldiers, and sextons are not so bad
as they are imagined to be. In my school practice I often
had to do with pupils from these schools, and some of
them could read fluently and write beautifully, and soon
abandoned the bad habits which they brought with them
from those schools. All of us know peasants who have
learned the rudiments in such schools, and it cannot be
said that this learning was useless or injurious. In the
second place, I will say that teachers of that cahbre are
especially bad because they are quite abandoned in the
backwoods and teach without any aid or instruction, and
that now there is not to be found a sinole one of the old
316 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
teachers who would not tell you with regret that he does
not know the new methods and has himself learned for
copper pence, and that many of them, especially the
younger church servants, are quite willing to learn the
new methods. These teachers ought not to be rejected
without further ado as absolutely worthless. There are
among them better and worse teachers (and I have seen
some very capable ones). They ought to be compared ;
the better of them ought to be selected, encouraged,
brought together with other better teachers, and in-
structed, — which is quite feasible and precisely the thing
in which the duty of the school council is to consist.
But how are they to be controlled, watched, and
taught, if they breed by the hundred in each county ?
In my opinion the work of the County Council and
school council ought to consist in nothing but watching
the pedagogical side gf the business, and that is feasible,
if these means will be taken : in every County Council,
which has taken upon itself the duty of the dissemina-
tion of popular education, or the cooperation with it,
there ought to be one person — whether it be an unpaid
member of the school council, or a man at a salary of
not less than one thousand roubles, hired by the County
Council — who is to attend to the pedagogical side of the
business in the county. That person ought to have a
general, fresh education within the limits of a gymnasium
course, that is, he must know Eussian thoroughly and
Church-Slavic partly, arithmetic and algebra thoroughly,
and be a teacher, that is, know the practice of pedagogy.
This person must be freshly educated, because I have
observed that frequently the information of a man who
has long ago finished his course even in a university, and
who has not refreshed his education, is insufficient, not
only for the guidance of teachers, but even for the exam-
ination of a village school. This person must by all
means be a teacher himself in the same locality, in order
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 317
that in his demands and instructions he may always have
in view that pedagogical material with which the other
teachers have to deal, and that he may sustain in himself
that live relation to reality which is the chief preserva-
tive against error and delusion. If a County Council
does not possess such a man and does not wish to employ
one, it has, in my opinion, absolutely nothing to do with
the popular education, except to give money, because
every interference with the administrative side of the
matter, in the way it is done now, can only be injurious.
This member of the County Council, or the educated
person hired by it, must have the best model school, with
an assistant, in the county. In addition to conducting
this school and applying to it all the newest methods of
instruction, this head teacher ought to keep an eye on all
the other schools. This school is not to be a model in
the sense of introducing into it all kinds of cubes and
pictures and all kinds of nonsense invented by the Ger-
mans, but the teacher in this school should experiment
on just such peasant children as the other schools consist
of, in order to determine the simplest methods which may
be adopted by the majority of the teachers, sextons, and
soldiers, who form the bulk of all the schools. Since
with the arrangement which I propose there will certainly
be formed large complete schools in the larger centres (as
I think, in the proportion of one to twenty of all the
other schools), and in these large schools the teachers
will be of a grade of education equal to that of the sem-
inarists who have finished a course in a theological school,
the head teacher will visit all these larger schools, bring
together these teachers on Sundays, point out to them
the defects, propose new methods, give counsel and books
for their own education, and invite them to his school on
Sundays. The hbrary of the head teacher ought to con-
sist of several copies of the Bible, of Church-Slavic and
Kussian grammars, arithmetic, and algebra. The head
318 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
teacher, whenever he has time, will visit also the small
schools and invite their teachers to come to see him ; but
the duty of watching the minor teachers is imposed on
the older teachers, who just in the same way visit their
district and invite those teachers to come to see them on
Sundays and on week-days. The County Council either
pays the teachers for travelling, or, in adding its portion
to what the Communes levy, makes it a condition that
the Communes furnish transportation. The meetings of
the teachers and the visits in similar or better schools are
one of the chief conditions for the successful conduct of
the business of education, and so the County Council
ought to direct its main attention to the organization of
these meetings, and not spare any money for them.
Besides, in the large schools, where there will be more
than fifty pupils, there ought to be chosen, instead of the
assistants which they now have, such of the pupils, of
either sex, as show marked ability for a teacher's calhng,
and they should be made assistants, two or three in each
school. These assistants should receive a salary of fifty
kopeks to one rouble per month, and the teacher should
work with them separately in the evenings, so that they
may not fall behind the others. These assistants, chosen
from among the best, are to form the future teachers, to
take the place of the lowest in the minor schools.
Naturally the organization of these teachers' meetings,
both for the smaller and the larger schools, and the head
teacher's visits of inspection, and the formation of teachers
from pupils acting as assistants may take place in a large
variety of ways ; the main point is that the surveillance
of any number of schools (even though it may reach the
norm of one school to every one hundred souls) is possible
in tliis manner. With such an arrangement the teachers
of both the large and the small schools will feel that
their labours are appreciated, that they have not buried
themselves in the backwoods without hope of .salvation.
ON" POPULAR EDUCATION 319
that they have companions and guides, and that in the
matter of instruction, both for their own further educa-
tion and for the improvement of their situation, they
have means for advancement. With such an arrange-
ment, the devotee and the sexton who are able to learn
will learn ; while those who are unable or unwilling to
do so will be replaced by some one else.
The time of instruction ought to be, as is the wish of
all peasants, during the seven winter months, and so the
salary is to be determined by the month. With such an
arrangement, leaving out the rapidity and the equal dis-
tribution of education, the advantage will be this, that
the schools will be established in those centres where the
necessity for them is felt by the masses, where they are
established spontaneously and, therefore, firmly. Where
the character of the population demands education it will
be permanent. Just look : in the towns, the children of
the innkeepers and well-to-do peasants learn to read in
one way or another and never forget what they have
learned ; but in the backwoods, where a landed proprietor
founds a school, the children learn well, but in ten years
all is forgotten, and the population is as illiterate as ever.
For this reason the centres, large or small, where the
schools are established spontaneously, are particularly
precious. Where such a school has germinated, no matter
how poor it be, it will throw out roots, and sooner or
later the population will be able to read and write. Con-
sequently, these sprouts ought to be deemed precious, and
not be treated, as they are everywhere, — they ought not
to be forbidden, because the schools are not according to
our taste, that is, the sprouts ought not to be killed, and
branches stuck in the ground where they will not take
root.
With merely such an arrangement, without the estab-
hshment of costly and artificial seminaries, the chosen
ones — those selected from the best of the pupils them-
320 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
selves, and those who are educated in the schools — will
form that contingent of cheap popular teachers who will
take the place of the soldiers and sextons and will fully sat-
isfy all the demands of the masses and of the educated
classes. The chief advantage of such an arrangement is
that it alone gives the development of popular education
a future, that is, takes us out from that bliud alley into
which the County Councils have gone, thanks to the
expensive schools and to the absence of new sources for
the increase of their numbers. Only when the masses
themselves choose the centres for the schools, themselves
choose teachers, determine the amount of the remunera-
tion, and directly enjoy the advantages of the schools,
will they be ready to add means for the schools if such
should become necessary. I know Communes that paid
fifty kopeks a soul for a school in each of their villages ;
but it is difficult to compel the peasants to pay fifteen
kopeks for a school in the township, if not all of them
can make use of it. For the whole county, for the County
Council, the peasants will not add a single kopek, because
they feel that they will not enjoy the advantages of their
money. Only with such an arrangement will be found
soon the means for the proper maintenance of all schools,
of one to each one hundred souls, which seems so impos-
sible in the present state of affairs.
In addition to this, with the arrangement which I pro-
pose, the interests of the peasant Communes and of the
County Council, as the representative of the intelHgence
of the locality, will indissolubly be connected. Let us
say that the County Council gives one-third of what the
peasants give. In furnishing this amount, it will evi-
dently, in one way or another, see to it that the money
is not wasted, and, consequently, will also keep an eye on
the two-thirds given by the peasant Communes. The
peasant Commune sees that the County Council gives its
part, and so admits the right of the Councd to follow the
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 321
progress of the instruction. At the same time, it has an
object-lesson in the difference which exists between a
school maintained at a smaller and that maintained at
a greater expense, and chooses the one which it needs or
which is more accessible to it in accordance with its means.
I will again take Krapiveusk County, with which I am
familiar, to show what difference the proposed arrange-
ment would make. I cannot have the slightest doubt
that the moment permission is gi-auted to open schools,
wherever wanted and of any description desired, there
will at once appear very many schools. I am convinced
that in Krapivensk County, in which there are fifty
parishes, there will always be a school in each parish,
because the parishes are always centres of population,
and because among the church servants there will always
be found one who is capable of teaching, likes to teach,
and will find his advantage in it. In addition to the
schools maintained by the church servants there will be
opened those forty schools that have been closed (more
correctly thirty, because ten of them were church schools),
and there will be opened very many new schools, so that
in a very short time there will be not far from four hun-
dred instead of the twenty at present.
I may be believed or not, but I will assume that ia
Krapivensk County 380 additional schools will be opened,
the moment they are given over to the masses, so that
there will be four hundred in all, and I will try to deter-
mine whether the existence of these four hundred schools,
that is, of twenty times as many as at present, is possible
under the conditions which I have assumed in discussing
the existing order.
Assuming that all peasants pay fifteen kopeks per soul,
and the County Council gives three thousand roubles,
there will be nine thousand roubles, which will suffice
only for thirty schools with the former arrangement.
But with the new arrangement :
322 ON POPULAR EDUCATION
I assume that ten of the old schools are left intact ;
in these schools the teachers get twenty roubles per
month, which, for the seven winter months, amounts
to fourteen hundred roubles.
I assume that in every parish there will be established
a school with the teacher's salary at five roubles per
month, which, for fifty schools, amounts to 1,750 roubles.
I assume the remaining 340 schools are of the cheap
character, at two roubles per mouth ; fifteen roubles for
each of the 340 schools makes 5,100 roubles.
Thus the four hundred schools will demand an expen-
diture in salaries amounting to 8,250 roubles. There are
still left 750 roubles for school appliances and transpor-
tation.
The figures for the teachers' wages are not chosen
arbitrarily by me: on the other hand, the expensive
teachers are given a larger salary than they now get by
the month for the whole year. Even so, the amount
apportioned to the church servants is what they now
receive in the majority of cases. But the cheap schools
at two roubles per mouth are assumed by me at a higher
rate than what the peasants in reality pay, so that the
calculation may boldly be accepted. In this calculation
is included the kernel of ten chief teachers and ten or
more church servant teachers. It is evident that only
with such a calculation will the school business be placed
on a serious and possible basis and have a clear and
definite future.
If what I have pointed out does not convince anybody
that will mean that I did not express clearly what I
wanted to say, and do not wish to enter into any disputes
with anybody. I know that no deaf people are so hope-
less as those who do not want to hear. I know how it is
with farmers. A new threshing-machine has been bought
at a great expense, and it is put up and started thresh-
ing. It threshes miserably, no matter how you set the
ON POPULAR EDUCATION 323
screw ; it threshes badly, and the grain falls into the straw.
There is a loss, and it is as clear as can be that the
machine ought to be abandoned and another means be
employed for threshing, but the money has been spent
and the threshing-macliine is put up. " Let her thresh,"
says the master. Precisely the same thing will happen
with this matter. I know that for a long time to come
there will flourish the object instruction, and cubes, and
buttons instead of arithmetic, and hissing and sputtering,
in teaching the letters, and twenty expensive schools of
the German pattern, instead of the needed four hundred
popular, cheap schools. But I know just as surely that
the common sense of the Eussian nation will not permit
this false, artificial system of instruction to be foisted
upon it.
The masses are the chief interested person and the
judge, and now do not pay a particle of attention to our
more or less ingenious discussions about the manner in
which the spiritual food of education is best to be pre-
pared for them. They do not care, because they are
firmly convinced that in the great business of their
mental development they will not make a false step and
will not accept what is bad, — and it would be like
making pease stick to the wall to attempt to educate,
direct, and teach them in the German fashion.
WHAT MEN LIVE BY
1881
WHAT MEN LIVE BY
We know that we have passed from death unto life,
because we love the brethren. He that loveth not his
brother abideth in death. (First Ep. of John, iii. 14.)
But whoso hath this world's good, and seeth his brother
have need, and shutteth up his heart from him, how dwell-
eth the love of God in him '? {lb. iii. 17.)
My children, let us not love in word, neither in tongue ;
but in deed and in truth. (lb. iii. 18.)
Love is of God ; and every one that loveth is born of
God, and knoweth God. (lb. iv. 7.)
He that loveth not knoweth not God ; for God is love.
(lb. iv. 8.)
No man hath seen God at any time. If we love one
another, God dwelleth in us. (lb. iv. 12.)
God is love ; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in
God, and God in him. (lb. iv. 16.)
If a man say, I love God, and hateth his brother, he is a
liar : for he that loveth not his brother whom he hath
seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seen. (76.
iv. 20.)
I.
A SHOEMAKER was lodging with his wife and children
at the house of a peasant. He had no house, no land of
his own, and supported his family by his shoemaker's
trade. Bread was dear, but work was cheap, and he
spent everything he made. The shoemaker and his wife
had one fur coat between them, and even that was all
worn to tatters ; this was the second year that the shoe-
maker had been meaning to buy a sheepskin for a new
fur coat.
328 WUAT MEN LIVE BY
Toward fall the shoemaker had saved some money : three
roubles in paper lay in his wife's coffer, and five roubles
and twenty kopeks were outstanding in the village.
In the morning the shoemaker went to the village to get
him that fur coat. He put on his wife's wadded nankeen
jacket over his shirt, and over it his cloth caftan ; he put
the three-rouble bill into his pocket, broke off a stick, and
started after breakfast. He thought :
" I shall get the five roubles from the peasant, will add
my own three, and with that will buy me a sheepskin for
the fur coat."
The shoemaker came to the village, and called on the
peasant : he was not at home, and his wife promised to
send her husband with the money, but gave him none
herself. He went to another peasant, but the peasant
swore that he had no money, and gave him only twenty
kopeks for mending a pair of boots. The shoemaker
made up his mind to take the sheepskin on credit, but
the furrier would not give it to him.
" Bring me the money," he said, " and then you can
choose any you please ; we know what it means to collect
debts."
Thus the shoemaker accomplished nothing. All he got
was the twenty kopeks for the boots he had mended, and
a peasant gave him a pair of felt boots to patch with
leather.
The shoemaker was grieved, spent all the twenty
kopeks on vodka, and started home without the fur coat.
In the morning it had seemed frosty to him, but now
that he had drunk a little he felt warm even without the
fur coat. The shoemaker walked along, with one hand
striking the stick against the frozen mud clumps, and
swinging the felt boots in the other, and talking to him-
self.
" I am warm even without a fur coat," he said. " I
have drunk a cup, and the vodka is coursing through all
WHAT MEN ^IVE BY 329
my veins. I do not need a sheepskin. I have forgotten
my woe. That's the kind of a man I am ! What do I
care ! I can get along without a fur coat : I do not need
it all the time. The only trouble is the old woman will
be sorry. It is a shame indeed : I work for him, and he
leads me by the nose. Just wait ! If you do not bring
the money, I'll take away your cap, upon my word, I
will ! How is this ? He pays me back two dimes at a
time ! What can you do with two dimes ? Take a
drink, that is all. He says he suffers want. You suffer
want, and am I not suffering ? You have a house, and
cattle, and everything, and here is all I possess ; you
have your own grain, and I have to buy it. I may do as
I please, but I have to spend three roubles a week on
bread. I come home, and the bread is gone : again lay
out a rouble and a half ! So give me what is mine ! "
Thus the shoemaker came up to a chapel at the turn of
the road, and there he saw something that looked white,
right near the chapel. It was growing dusk, and the
shoemaker strained his eyes, but could not make out
what it was.
" There was no stone here," he thought. " A cow ? It
does not look like a cow. It looks like the head of a
man, and there is something white besides. And whet
should a man be doing there ? "
He came nearer, and he could see plainly. What mar-
vel was that ? It was really a man, either ahve or dead,
sitting there all naked, leaning against the chapel, and
not stirring in the least. The shoemaker was frightened,
and thought to himself :
" Somebody must have killed a man, and stripped him
of his clothes, and thrown him away there. If I go up to
him, I shall never clear myself."
And the shoemaker went past. He walked around the
chapel, and the man was no longer to be seen. He went
past the chapel, and looked back, and saw the man lean-
330 WHAT MEN LIVE BY
ing away from the buikliiig and moving, as though watch-
ing him. The shoemaker was frightened even more than
before, and he thought to himself :
" Shall I go up to him, or not ? If I go up, something
bad may happen. Who knows what kind of a man he is ?
He did not get there for anything good. If I go up, he
will spring at me and choke me, and I shall not get away
from him ; and if he does not choke me, I may have
trouble with him all the same. What can I do with
him, since he is naked ? Certainly I cannot take off the
last from me and give it to him ! May God save me ! "
And the shoemaker increased his steps. He was
already a distance away from the chapel, when his con-
science began to smite him.
And the shoemaker stopped on the road.
" What are you doing, Semen ? " he said to himself.
"A man is dying in misery, and you go past him and
lose your courage. Have you suddenly grown so rich ?
Are you afraid that they will rob you of your wealth ?
Oh, Sem^n, it is not right ! "
Sem^n turned back, and went up to the man.
II.
Semen walked over to the man, and looked at him ;
and saw that it was a young man, in the prime of his
strength, with no bruises on his body, but evidently frozen
and frightened : he was leaning back and did not look at
Sem&, as though he were weakened and could not raise
his eyes. Sem^n went up close to him, and the man
suddenly seemed to wake up. He turned his head,
opened his eyes, and looked at Sem^n. And this one
glance made Semen think well of the man. He threw
down the felt boots, ungirt himself, put his belt on the
boots, and took off his caftan.
" What is the use of talking ? " he said. " Put it on !
Come now ! "
Sem^n took the man by his elbows and began to raise
him. The man got up. And Sem^n saw that his body
was soft and clean, his hands and feet not calloused, and
his face gentle. Sem^n threw his caftan over the man's
shoulders. He could not find his way into the sleeves.
So Sem^n put them in, pulled the caftan on him, wrapped
him in it, and girded it with the belt.
Sem6n took off his torn cap, intending to put it on the
naked man, but his head grew cold, and so he thought :
" My whole head is bald, while he has long, curly hair."
He put it on again. " I had better put the boots on him."
He seated himself and put the felt boots on him.
The shoemaker addressed him and said :
" That's the way, my friend ! Now move about and get
warmed up. This business will be looked into without
us. Can you walk ? "
881
332 WHAT MEN LIVE BY
The man stood, looking meekly at Sem^n, but could
not say a word.
" Why don't you speak ? You can't stay here through
the winter. We must make for a hving place. Here,
take my stick, lean on it, if you are weak. Tramp along ! "
And the man went. And he walked lightly, and did
not fall behind.
As they were walking along, Sem^n said to him :
" Who are you, please ? "
" I am a stranger."
" I know all the people here about. How did you get
near that chapel ? "
" I cannot tell."
" Have people insulted you ? "
" No one has. God has punished me."
" Of course, God does everything, but still you must be
making for some place. Whither are you bound ? "
" It makes no difference to me."
Sem^n was surprised. He did not resemble an evil-
doer, and was gentle of speech, and yet did not say any-
thing about himself. And Sem^n thought that all kinds
of things happen, and so he said to the man :
" Well, come to my house and warm yourself a little."
Sem^n walked up to the farm, and the stranger did not
fall behind, but walked beside him. A wind rose and
blew into Semen's shirt, and his intoxication went away,
and he began to feel cold. He walked along, sniffling,
and wrapping himself in his wife's jacket, and he thought :
" There is your fur coat : I went to get myself a fur
coat, and I am coming back without a caftan, and am
even bringing a naked man with me. Matr^na will not
praise me for it ! "
And as Sem^n thought of Matr^na, he felt sorry ; and
as he looked at the stranger and recalled how he had
looked at him at the chapel, his blood began to play in
his heart.
in.
SemiSn's wife got things done early. She chopped the
wood, brought the water, fed the children, herself took a
bite of something, and fell to musing. She was thinking
about when to set the bread, whether to-day or to-morrow.
There was a big slice of it left.
" If Sem^n has his dinner there," she thought, " and
does not eat much for supper, the bread will last until
to-morrow."
Matr^na turned the slice around and a second time, and
thought :
" I will not set any bread to-day. I have enough meal
for just one setting. We shall somehow hold out until
Friday."
Matr^na put the bread away, and seated herself at the
table to put a patch in her husband's shirt. She was
sewing and thinking of how he would buy a sheepskin for
a fur coat.
" If only the furrier does not cheat him, for my man
is too simple for anything. He himself will not cheat a
soul, but a Httle child can deceive him. Eight roubles is
no small sum. One can pick up a good fur coat for it.
It will not be tanned, still it will be a fur coat. How
we suffered last winter without a fur coat ! We could
not get down to the river, or anywhere. And there he
has gone out, putting everything on him, and I have noth-
ing to dress in. He went away early ; it is time for him
to be back. If only my dear one has not gone on a
spree ! "
Just as Matr^na was thinking this, the steps creaked
833
334 WHAT ME2Sr LIVE BY
on the porch, and somebody entered. Matr^na stuck the
needle in the cloth, and went out into the vestibule. She
saw two coming in : Sem^n, and with him a man without
a cap and in felt boots,
Matr^na at once smelt the liquor in her husband's
breath. " Well," she thought, " so it is : he has been on
a spree." And when she saw that he was without his
caftan, in nothing but the jacket, and that he was not
bringing anything, but only keeping silent and crouching,
something broke in Matrena's heart. " He has spent all
the money in drinks," she thought, " and has been on a
spree with some tramp, and has even brought him along."
Matrena let them pass into the hut, and then stepped
in herself. She saw the lean young man, and he had on
him their caftan. No shirt was to be seen under the
caftan, and he had no hat on his head. When he en-
tered, he stood still, and did not stir, and did not raise his
eyes. And Matrena thought : " He is not a good man, —
he is afraid."
Matrena scowled and went to the oven, waiting to see
what would happen.
Sem^n took off his cap and sat down on the bench like
a good man.
" Well, Matr(5ua, will you let us have something for
supper, will you ? " he said.
Matrena growled something under her breath. She
stood at the oven, and did not stir : she looked now at
the one, and now at the other, -and shook her head. Se-
m^n saw that his wife was not in a good humour, but
there was nothing to be done, and he acted as though he
did not see it. He took the stranger by the arm :
" Sit down, my friend," he said, " we shall have our
supper."
The stranger sat down on the bench.
" Well, have you not cooked anything ? "
That simply roiled Matrena.
WHAT MEN LIVE BY 335
" I have cooked, but not for you. You seem to have
drunk away your senses, I see. You went to get a fur
coat, and come back without your caftan, and have even
brought some kind of a naked tramp with you. I have
no supper for you drunkards."
" Stop, Matr^na ! What is the use of wagging youi
tongue without any sense ? First ask what kind of a
man it is — "
" Tell me what you did with the money."
Semen stuck his hand into the caftan, took out the
bill, and opened it before her.
" Here is the money. Trif onov has not paid me, — he
promised to give it to me to-morrow."
That enraged Matrena even more : he had bought no
fur coat, and the only caftan they had he had put on a
naked fellow, and had even brought him along.
She grabbed the bill from the table, and ran to put it
away, and said :
" I have no supper. One cannot feed all the drunkards."
" Oh, Matrena, hold your tongue. First hear what I
have to say — "
" Much sense shall I hear from a drunken fool. With
good reason did I object to marrying you, a drunkard.
My mother gave me some liien, and you spent it on
drinks ; you went to buy a fur coat, and spent that, too."
Sem^n wanted to explain to his wife that he had spent
twenty kopeks only, and wanted to tell her that he had
found the man ; but Matrena began to break in with any-
thing she could think of, and to speak two words at once.
Even what had happened ten years before, she brought
up to him now.
Matrena talked and talked, and jumped at Semen, and
grabbed him by the sleeve.
" Give me my jacket. That is all I have left, and you
have taken it from me and put it on yourself. Give it to
me, you freckled dog, — may the apoplexy strike you ! "
336 WHAT MEN LIVE BY
Sem^n began to take off the bodice ; as he turned back
his arm, his wife gave the bodice a jerk, and it ripped at
the seam. Matr^na grabbed the jacket, threw it over her
head, and made for the door. She wanted to go out, but
stopped : her heart was doubled, for she wanted to have
her revenge, and also to find out what kind of a man he
was.
IV.
Matrena stopped and said :
" If he were a good man, he would not be naked ; but,
as it is, he has not even a shirt on him. If he meant
anything good, you would tell me where you found that
dandy."
" I am telling you : as I was walking along, I saw him
sitting at the chapel, without any clothes, and almost
frozen. It is not summer, and he was all naked. God
sent me to him, or he would have perished. Well, what
had I to do ? All kinds of things happen ! I picked
him up and dressed him, and brought him here. Calm
yourself ! It is a sin, Matrena. We shall all die."
Matrena wanted to go on scolding, but she looked at
the stranger and kept silence. The stranger sat without
moving, just as he had seated himself on the edge of the
bench. His hands were folded on his knees, his head
drooped on his breast, his eyes were not opened, and he
frowned as though something were choking him. Matrena
grew silent. And Sem^n said :
" Matrena, have you no God ? "
When Matrena heard these words, she glanced at the
stranger, and suddenly her heart became softened. She
went away from the door, walked over to the oven corner,
and got the supper ready. She placed a bowl on the
table, filled it with kvas, and put down the last slice of
bread. She handed them a knife and spoons.
" Eat, if you please," she said.
Sem^n touched the stranger.
" Creep through here, good fellow ! " he said.
337
338 WHAT MEN LIVE BY
Sem^n cut up the bread and crumbled it into the kvas,
and they began to eat. And Matr^na sat down at the
corner of the table, and leaned on her arm, and kept
looking at the stranger.
And Matrena pitied the stranger, and took a liking for
him. And suddenly the stranger grew merry, stopped
frowniug, raised his eyes on Matrena, and smiled.
They got through with their supper. The woman
cleared the table, and began to ask the stranger:
" Who are you ? "
" I am a stranger."
" How did you get ou the road ? "
" I cannot tell."
" Has somebody robbed you ? "
" God has punished me."
" And you were lying there naked ? "
" Yes, I was lying naked, and freezing. Sem^n saw
me, took pity on me, pulled off his caftan, put it on me,
and told me to come here. And you have given me to
fiat and to drink, and have pitied me. The Lord will
save you ! "
Matrena got up, took from the window Semen's old
shirt, the same that she had been patching, and gave it to
the stranger ; and she found a pair of trousers, and gave
them to him.
" Here, take it ! I see that you have no shirt. Put it
on, and lie down wherever it pleases you, — on the hang-
ing bed or on the oven."
The stranger took off the caftan, put on the shirt, and
lay down on the hanging bed. Matrena put out the
light, took the caftan, and climbed to where her husband
was.
Matrena covered herself with the corner of the caftan,
and she lay and could not sleep : the stranger would not
leave her mind.
As she thought how he had eaten the last slice of bread
WHAT MEN LIVE BY 339
and how there would be no bread for the morrow ; as she
thought how she had given him a shirt and a pair of
trousers, she felt pretty bad ; but when she thought
of how he smiled, her heart was gladdened.
Matr^na could not sleep for a long time, and she heard
that Semen, too, was not sleeping; he kept pulling the
caftan on himself.
" Sem^n ! "
" What is it ? "
" We have eaten up the last bread, and I have not set
any. I do not know what to do for to-morrow. Maybe
I had better ask Gossip Malanya for some."
" If we are alive we shall find something to eat."
The woman lay awhile and kept silence.
" He must be a good man. But why does he not tell
about himself ? "
" I suppose he cannot."
" Sem^n ! "
" What ? "
" We give, but why does nobody give to us ? "
Sem^n did not know what to say. He only said, " Stop
talking ! " and turned over, and fell asleep.
V.
In the morning Sem^n awoke. The children were
asleep; his wife had gone to the neighbours to borrow
some bread. The stranger of last night, in the old trou-
sers and shirt, was alone, sitting on the bench and looking
upward. And his face was brighter than on the day
before.
And Sem^n said :
" Well, dear man, the belly begs for bread, and the
naked body for clothes. We must earn our living. Can
you work ? "
" I do not know anything."
Sem^n wondered at him, and said :
" If only you are willing : people can learn anything."
" People work, and I, too, will work."
" What is your name ? "
" Michael."
" Well, Mikhayla, you do not want to talk about your-
self, — that is your business ; but a man has to live. If
you work as I order you, I will feed you."
" God save you, and I will learn. Show me what to do ! "
Sem^n took the flax, put it on his fingers and began to
make an end.
" It is not a hard thing to do, you see."
Mikhayla watched him, himself put the flax on his
fingers, and made a thread end, as Sem^n had taught bim.
Sem^n showed him how to v;ax it. Mikhayla again
learned the way at once. The master showed him how
to weld the bristle, and how to whet, and Mikhayla
learned it all at once.
340
WHAT MEN LIVE BY 341
No matter what work Sem^n showed to him, he grasped
it at once, and on the third day he began to sew as though
he had done nothing else in all his life. He worked with-
out unbending himself, ate little, between the periods of
work kept silence, and all the time looked toward the sky.
He did not go into the street, spoke no superfluous word,
and did not jest or laugh.
Only once w^as he seen to smile, and that was the first
evening, when the woman gave him a supper.
VL
Day was added to day, week to week, and the circle of
a year went by. Mikhayla was living as before with
Sem^n, and working. And the report spread about Semen's
workman that nobody sewed a boot so neatly and so
strongly as he. And people from all the surrounding
country began to come to Sem^n for boots, and Semen's
income began to grow.
One time, in the winter, Sem^n was sitting with Mi-
khayla and working, when a troyka with bells stopped at
the dooi They looked through the window: the car-
riage had stopped opposite the hut, and a fine lad jumped
down from the box and opened the carriage door. Out
of the carriage stepped a geutleman in a fur coat. He
came out of the carriage, walked toward Semen's house,
and went on the porch. Up jumped Matr^na and opened
the door wide. The gentleman bent his head and entered
the hut; he straightened himself up, almost struck the
ceiling with his head, and took up a whole corner.
Sem^n got up, bowed to the gentleman, and wondered
what he wanted. He had not seen such men. Sem^n
himself was spare-ribbed, and Mikhayla was lean, and
Matrena was as dry as a chip, while this one was hke a
man from another world : his face was red and blood-
filled, his neck like a bull's, and altogether he looked as
though cast in iron.
The gentleman puffed, took off his fur coat, seated him-
self on a bench, and said :
" Who is the master shoemaker ? "
Sem^n stepped forward, and said:
342
WHAT MEN LIVE BY 343
" I, your Excellency."
The gentleman shouted to his lad :
" Oh, Fedka, let me have the material ! "
The lad came running in and brought a bundle. The
gentleman took it and put it on the table.
" Open it ! " he said.
The lad opened it. The gentleman pointed to the
material, and said to Semen :
" Listen now, shoemaker ! Do you see the material ? "
" I do," he said, " your Honour."
" Do you understand what kind of material this is ? "
Semen felt of it, and said :
" It is good material."
" I should say it is ! You, fool, have never seen such
before. It is German material: it costs twenty
roubles."
Semen was frightened, and he said :
" How could we have seen such ? "
" That's it. Can you make me boots to fit my feet from
this material ? "
" I can, your Honour."
The gentleman shouted at him :
" That's it : you can. You must understand for whom
you are working, and what material you have to work on.
Make me a pair of boots that will wear a year without
running down or ripping. If you can, undertake it and
cut the material; if you cannot, do not undertake it
and do not cut the material. I tell you in advance : if
the boots wear off or rip before the year is over, I will put
you into jail ; if they do not wear off or rip for a year, I
will give you ten roubles for the work."
Semen was frightened and did not know what to say.
He looked at Mikhayla. He nudged him with his
elbow, and said :
" Friend, what do you say ? "
Mikhayla nodded to him : " Take the work ! "
VII.
And Sem^n said to Mikhayla :
" To be sure, we have undertaken to do the work, if
only we do not get into trouble ! The material is costly,
and the gentleman is cross. I hope we shall not make a
blunder. Your eyes are sharper, and your hands are
nimbler than mine, so take this measure ! Cut the mate-
rial, and I will put on the last stitches."
Mikhayla did not disobey him, but took the gentle-
man's material, spread it out on the table, doubled it, took
the scissors, and began to cut.
Matr^na came up and saw Mikhayla cutting, and was
wondering at what he was doing. Matr^na had become
used to the shoemaker's trade, and she looked, and saw
that Mikhayla was not cutting the material in shoemaker
fashion, but in a round shape.
Matr^na wanted to say something, but thought : " Per-
haps I do not understand how boots have to be made for
a gentleman ; no doubt Mikhayla knows better, and I will
not interfere."
Mikhayla cut the pair, and picked up the end, and be-
gan to sew, not in shoemaker fashion, with the two ends
meeting, but with one end, like soft shoes.
Again Matr^na marvelled, but did not interfere. And
Mikhayla kept sewing and sewing. They began to eat
their dinner, and Sem^n saw that Mikhayla had made a
pair of soft shoes from the gentleman's material.
Sem^n heaved a sigh. " How is this ? " he thought.
" Mikhayla has lived with me a whole year, and has never
made a mistake, and now he has made such trouble for
me. The gentleman ordered boots with long boot-legs,
346
WHAT MEN LIVE BY 347
and he has made soft shoes, without soles, and has spoiled
the material. How shall I now straighten it out with the
master ? No such material can be found."
And he said to Mikhayla :
" What is this, dear man, that you have done ? You
have ruined me. The master has ordered boots, and see
what you have made ! "
He had just begun to scold Mikhayla, when there was
a rattle at the door ring, — some one was knocking. They
looked through the window : there was there a man on
horseback, and he was tying up his horse. They opened
the door : in came the same lad of that gentleman.
« Good day ! "
" Good day, what do you wish ? "
" The lady has sent me about the boots."
" What about the boots ? "
" What about the boots ? Our master does not need
them. Our master has bid us live long."
" You don't say ! "
" He had not yet reached home, when he died in his
carriage. The carriage drove up to the house, and the
servants came to help him out, but he lay as heavy as a
bag, and was stiff and dead, and they had a hard time
taking him out from the carriage. So the lady has sent
me, saying : ' Tell the shoemaker that a gentleman came
to see him, and ordered a pair of boots, and left the ma-
terial for them ; well, tell him that the boots are not
wanted, but that he should use the leather at once for a
pair of soft shoes. Wait until they make them, and bring
them with you.' And so that is why I have come."
Mikhayla took the remnants of the material from the
table, rolled them up, and took the soft shoes which he
had made, and clapped them against each other, and wiped
them off with his apron, and gave them to the lad. The
lad took the soft shoes.
" Good-bye, masters, good luck to you ! "
VIII.
There passed another year, and a third, and Mi-
khayla was now living the sixth year with Sem^n. He
was hving as before. He went nowhere, did not speak
an unnecessary word, and in all that time had smiled but
twice : once, when they gave him the supper, and the
second time when the gentleman came. Semen did not
get tired admiring his workman. He no longer asked
him where he came from ; he was only afraid that Mi-
khayla might leave him.
One day they were sitting at home. The housewife
was putting the iron pots into the oven, and the children
were running on the benches, and looking out of the win-
dow. Sem^n was sharpening his knives at one window,
and Mikhayla was heehng a shoe at the other.
One of the little boys ran up to Mikhayla on the bench,
leaned against his shoulder, and looked out of the window.
" Uncle Mikhayla, look there : a merchant woman is
coming to us with some little girls. One of the girls
is lame."
When the boy said that, Mikhayla threw down his
work, turned to the window, and looked out into the
street.
And Sem^n marvelled. Mikhayla had never before
looked into the street, and now he had rushed to the win-
dow, and was gazing at something. Sem^n, too, looked
out of the window : he saw, indeed, a woman who was
walking over to his yard. She was well dressed, and led
two little girls in fur coats and shawls. The girls looked
one like the other, so that it was hard to tell them apart,
348
WHAT MEN LIVE BY 349
only one had a maimed left leg, — she walked with a
limp.
The woman walked up the porch to the vestibule, felt
for the entrance, pulled at the latch, and opened the door.
First she let the two girls in, and then entered herself.
" Good day, people ! "
" You are welcome ! What do you wish ? "
The woman seated herself at the table. The girls
pressed close to her knees : they were timid before the
people.
" I want you to make some leather boots for the girls
for the spring."
" Well, that can be done. We have not made such
small shoes, but we can do it. We can make sharp-
edged shoes, or turnover shoes on linen. Mikhayla is
my master."
Semi^n looked around at Mikhayla, and he saw that
Mikhayla had put away his work and was sitting and
gazing at the girls.
And Semen marvelled at Mikhayla. Indeed, the girls
were pretty : black-eyed, chubby, ruddy-faced, and the fur
coats and shawls which they had on were fine ; but still
Semen could not make out why he was gazing at them as
though they were friends of his.
Sem^n marvelled, and began to talk with the woman
and to bargain. They came to an agreement, and he took
the measures. The woman took the lame girl on her
knees, and said :
" For this girl take two measures : make one shoe for
the lame foot, and three for the sound foot. They have the
same size of feet, exactly alike. They are twins."
Sem^n took the measure, and he said about the lame
girl :
" What has made her lame ? She is such a pretty girL
Was she born this way ? "
" No, her mother crushed her."
350 WHAT MEN LIVE BY
Matr^na broke in, — she wanted to know who the
woman was, and whose the children were, and so she
said:
" Are you not their mother ? "
" I am not their mother, nor their kin, housewife ! I
am a stranger to them : I have adopted them."
" Not your children ! How you care for them ! "
" Why should I not care for them ? I nursed them
with my own breast. I had a child of my own, but God
took him away. I did not care for him so much as I
have cared for them."
" Whose are they, then ? "
IX.
The woman began to talk, and said :
" It was six years ago that these orphans lost their
parents in one week : their father was buried on a Tues-
day, and their mother died on Friday. These orphans
were born three days after their father's death, and their
mother did not live a day. At that time I was living
with my husband in the village. We were their neigh-
bours, our yard joining theirs. Their father was a lonely
man ; he worked in the forest. They dropped a tree on
him, and it fell across his body and squeezed out his
entrails. They had barely brought him home, when he
gave up his soul to God, and that same week his wife bore
twins, — these girls. The woman was poor and alone ;
she had neither old woman nor girl with her.
" Alone she bore them, and alone she died.
" I went in the morning to see my neighbour, but she,
the dear woman, was already cold. As she died she fell
on the girl, and wrenched her leg. The people came,
and they washed and dressed her, and made a coffin, and
buried her. All of them were good people. The girls
were left alone. What was to be done with them ? Of
all the women I alone had a baby. I had been nursing
my first-born boy for eight weeks. I took them for the
time being to my house. The peasants gathered and
thought and thought what to do with them, and they said
to me : * Marya, keep the girls awhile, and we will try
and think what to do with them.' And I nursed the
straight girl once, but the lame girl I would not nurse.
I did not want her to Hve. But, I thought, why should
351
352
WHAT MEN LIVE BY
the angelic soul go out, and so I pitied her, too. I began
to nurse her, and so I raised my own and the two girls,
all three of them with my own breasts. I was young and
strong, and I had good food. And God gave me so much
milk in my breasts that at times they overflowed. I
would feed two of them, while the third would be wait-
ing. When one rolled away, 1 took the third. And God
granted that I should raise the three, but my own child I
lost in the second year. And God has given me no other
children. We began to earn more and more, and now we
are living here with the merchant at the mill. The
wages are big, and our living is good. I have no children,
and how should I live if it were not for these girls ?
How can I help loving them ? They are all the wax of
my tapers that I have."
With one hand the woman pressed the lame girl to her
side, and with the other she began to wipe off her tears.
And Matr^na sighed, and said :
" Not in vain is the proverb : ' You can live without
parents, but not without God.' "
And so they were talking among themselves, when
suddenly the room was lighted as though by sheet light-
ning from the corner where sat Mikhayla. All looked at
him, and they saw Mikhayla sitting with folded hands on
his knees, and looking up, and smiling.
The woman went away with the girls, and Mikhayla
got up from his bench. He lay down his work, took off his
apron, bowed to the master and to the housewife, and said :
" Forgive me, people ! God has forgiven me. You,
too, should forgive me."
And the master and his wife saw a light coming from
Mikhayla. And Sem^n got up, and bowed to Mikhayla,
and said :
" I see, Mikhayla, you are not a simple man, and I can-
not keep you, and must not beg you to remain. But tell
me this : Why, when I found you and brought you home,
were you gloomy, and when my wife gave you a supper,
why did you smile at her and after that grow brighter ?
Later, when the gentleman ordered the boots, you smiled
for the second time, and after that grew brighter, and
now, when the woman brought her girls, you smiled for
the third time, and grew entirely bright. Tell me, Mi-
khayla, why does such light come from you, and why did
you smile three times ? "
And Mikhayla said :
" The light comes from me, because I had been punished,
and now God has forgiven me. And I smiled three times
because I had to learn three words of God. And I have
learned the three words : one word I learned when your
wife took pity on me, and so I smiled for the first time.
The second word I learned when the rich man ordered
the boots, and then I smiled for the second time. And
now, when I saw the girls, I learned the last, the third
word, and I smiled for the third time."
353
354 WHAT MEN LIVE BY
And Semdn said :
" Tell me, Mikhayla, for what did God punish you, and
what are those words of God, that I may know them."
And Mikhayla said :
" God punished me for having disobeyed him, I was
an angel in heaven, and I disobeyed God. I was an
angel in heaven, and God sent me down to take the soul
out of a woman. I flew down to the earth, and I saw the
woman lying sick, and she had borne twins, — two girls.
The girls were squirming near their mother, and she
could not take them to her breasts. The woman saw me,
and she knew that God had sent me for her soul. She
wept, and said: 'Angel of God! My husband has just
been buried, — he was killed by a tree in the forest. I
have neither sister, nor aunt, nor granny, — there is no
one to bring up my orphans, so do not take my soul ! Let
me raise my own children, and put them on their feet.
Children cannot live without a father, without a mother.'
And I listened to the mother, and placed one girl to her
breast, and gave the other one into her hands, and rose up
to the Lord in heaven. And I came before the Lord, and
said : ' I cannot take the soul out of the mother in child-
birth. The father was killed by a tree, the mother bore
twins, and she begged me not to take the soul out of her,
saying. Let me rear and bring up my children, and put
them on their feet. Children cannot live without a father
or mother. I did not take the soul out of the woman in
childbirth.' And the Lord said : ' Go and take the soul
out of the woman in childbirth! And you will learn
three words: you will learn what there is in men, and
what is not given to men, and what men live by. When
you learn them, you will return to heaven.' I flew back
to earth and took the soul out of the woman.
" The little ones fell away from the breasts. The dead
body rolled over on the bed and crushed one of the girls,
and wrenched her leg. I rose above the village and
WHAT MEN LIVE BY 355
wanted to take the soul to God ; but the wiud caught me,
and my wings fell Hat and dropped off, and the soul went
by itself before God, and I fell near the road on the
earth."
XL
And Sem^n and Matr^na understood whom they had
clothed and fed, and who had hved with them, and they
wept for terror and for joy, and said the angel :
" I was left all alone in the field, and naked. I had
not known before of human wants, neither of cold, nor of
hunger, and I became a man. I was starved and chilled
and did not know what to do. I saw in the field a chapel
made for the Lord, and I went to God's chapel and wanted
to hide myself in it. The chapel was locked, and I could
not get in. And I seated myself behind the chapel, to
protect myself against the wind. The evening came, I
was hungry and chilled, and I ached all over. Suddenly
I heard a man walking on the road ; he was carrying a
pair of boots and talking to himself. And I saw a mortal
face, for the first time since I had become a man, and
that face was terrible to me, and I turned away from it.
And I heard the man talking to himself about how he
might cover his body in the winter from the cold, and
how he might feed his wife and children. And I thought :
' I am dying from hunger and cold, and here comes a man,
who is thinking only of how to cover himself and his
wife with a fur coat, and of how to feed his family. He
cannot help me.' The man saw me ; he frowned, and
looked gloomier still, and passed by me. And I was in
despair. Suddenly I heard the man coming back. I
looked at him and did not recognize him : before that death
had been in his face, and now he was revived, and in his
face I saw God. He came up to me, and clothed me, and
took me with him, and led me to his house. I came to
856
WHAT MEN LIVE BY 357
his house, and a woman came out of the house and began
to talk. The woman was more terrible yet than the man ;
the dead spirit was coming out of her mouth, and I could
not breathe from the stench of death. She wanted to
send me out into the cold, and I knew that she would
die if she drove me out. And suddenly her husband
reminded her of God. And the woman suddenly changed.
And when she gave us to eat, and looked at us, I glanced
at her : there was no longer death in her, — she was alive,
and I recognized God in her.
" And I recalled God's first word : ' You will know
what there is in men.' And I learned that there was love
in men. And I rejoiced at it, because God had begun
to reveal to me what He had promised, and I smiled for
the first time. But I could not yet learn everything. I
could not understand what was not given to men, and
what men lived by.
" I began to live with you, and lived a year, and
there came a man, to order a pair of boots, such as would
wear a year, without ripping or turning. I looked at
him, and suddenly I saw behind his shoulder my com-
panion, the angel of death. None but me saw that
angel ; but I knew him, and I knew that the sun would
not go down before the rich man's soul would be taken
away. And I thought : ' The man is providing for a
year, and does not know that he will not hve until even-
ing,' And I thought of God's second word : ' You will
learn what is not given to men.'
" I knew already what there was in men. Now I
learned what was not given to men. It is not given
men to know what they need for their bodies. And I
smiled for the second time. I was glad because I had
seen my comrade the angel, and because God had revealed
the second word to me.
" But I could not understand everything. I could not
understand what men lived by. And I lived and waited
358 WHAT MEN LIVE BY
for God to reveal to me the last word. And in the sixth
year came the twin girls with the woman, and I recognized
the girls and knew how they were kept alive. I recog-
nized them, and I thought : ' The mother begged me for
the sake of the children, and I beheved the mother and
thought that the children could not live without father and
mother, and yet a strange woman has fed them and reared
them.' And when the woman was touched as she looked
at the children and wept, I saw in her the hving God, and
I understood what men lived by. And I learned that
God had revealed the third word to me and forgave me.
And I smiled for the third time."
xn.
And the angel's body was bared and clothed in light,
so that the eye could not behold him, and he spoke
louder, as though the voice were coming not from him
but from heaven. And the angel said :
" I have learned that every man lives not by the care
for liimself, but by love.
" It was not given to the mother to know what her
children needed for life. It was not given to the rich
man to know what he needed for himself. And it is not
given to any man to know whether before evening he
will need boots for his hfe, or soft shoes for his death.
" I was kept alive when I was a man not by what I
did for myself, but because there was love in a passer-by
and in his wife, and because they pitied and loved me.
The orphans were left alive not by what was done for
them, but because there was love in the heart of a
strange woman, and she pitied and loved them. And all
men live not by what they do for themselves, but because
there is love in men.
" I knew before that God gave life to men and that He
wanted them to live ; now I understand even something
else.
" I understand that God does not want men to live
apart, and so He has not revealed to them what each
needs for himself, but wants them to live together, and
so He has revealed to them what they all need for them-
selves and for all.
" I understand now that it only seems to men that
they live by the care for themselves, and that they live
869
o60 WHAT MEN LIVE BY
only by love. He who has love, is in God, and God is in
him, because God is love."
And the angel began to sing the praise of God, and
from his voice the whole hut shook. And the ceihng
expanded, and a hery column rose from earth to heaven.
And Semen and his wife and children fell to the ground.
And the wings were unfolded on the angel's shoulders,
and he rose to heaven.
And when Semen awoke, the hut was as before, and in
the room were only his family.
THE THREE HERMITS
THE THREE HERMITS
But when ye pray, use not vain repetitions, as the heathen
do : for they think that they shall be heard for their much
speaking. Be not ye therefore like uuto them : for your
Father knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask
him. (Matt. vi. 7-8.)
A BISHOP was sailing in a ship from Arkhangelsk to So-
lovki. On this ship there were pilgrims on their way to
visit the saints. The wind was favourable, the weather
clear, and the vessel did not roll. Of the pilgrims some
were lying down, some eating, some sitting in groups, and
some talking with each other. The bishop, too, came out
on deck, and began to walk up and down on the bridge.
He walked up to the prow and saw there several men
sitting together. A peasant was pointing to something in
the sea and talking, while the people listened to him. The
bishop stopped to see what the peasant was pointing at :
he could see nothing except that the sun was glistening
on the water. The bishop came nearer and began to listen.
When the peasant saw the bishop, he took off his cap
and grew silent. And the people, too, when they saw
the bishop, took off their caps and saluted him.
" Do not trouble yourselves, friends," said the bishop.
" I have just come to hear what you, good man, are telling
about."
" The fisherman is telling us about the hermits," said
a merchant, who was a little bolder than the rest.
" What about those hermits ? " asked the bishop. He
363
364 THE THKEE HERMITS
walked over to the gunwale and sat down on a box.
"Tell me, too, and I will listen. What were you point-
ing at ? "
" There is an island glinting there," said the peasant,
pointing forward and to the right. " On that island the
hermits are living and saving their souls."
" Where is that island ? " asked the bishop.
" Please to follow my hand ! There is a small cloud ;
below it and a little to the left of it the island appears
like a streak."
The bishop looked and looked, but only the water was
rippling in the sun, and he could not make out any-
thing with his unaccustomed eye.
" I do not see it," he said. " What kind of hermits are
hving on that island ? "
" God's people," replied the peasant. " I had heard
about them for a long time, and never had any
chance to see them ; but two summers ago I saw them
myself."
The fisherman went on to tell how he went out to
catch fish and was driven to that island, and did not
know where he was. In the morning he walked out and
came to an earth hut, and there he saw one hermit, and
then two more came out. They fed him and dried him
and helped him to mend his boat.
" What kind of people are they ? " asked the bishop.
" One is small and stooping, a very old man, in an old
cassock ; he must be more than a hundred years old, the
gray of his beard is turning green, and he smiles all the
time, and is as bright as an angel of heaven. The second
is taller ; he, too, is old, and wears a ragged caftan ; his
broad gray beard is streaked yellow, and he is a power-
ful man : he turned my boat around as though it were
a vat, before I had a chance to help him ; he also is a
cheerful man. The third man is tall; his beard falls
down to his knees and is as white as snow ; he is a
THE THREE HERMITS 365
gloomy man, and his brows hang over his eyes ; he is all
naked, and girded only with a piece of matting."
" What did they tell you ? " asked the bishop.
" They did everything mostly in silence, and spoke
little to one another. When one looked up, the others
understood him. I asked the tall man how long they
had been living there. He frowned and muttered some-
thing, as though he were angry, but the little hermit
took liis arm and smiled, and the tall one grew silent.
All the little hermit said was : ' Have mercy on us,'
and smiled."
While the peasant spoke, the ship came nearer to the
island.
" Now you can see it plainly," said the merchant.
" Please to look there, your Eeverence ! " he said, pointing
to the island.
The bishop looked up and really saw a black strip,
which was the island. The bishop looked at it for quite
awhile, then he went away from the prow to the stern,
and walked over to the helmsman.
"What island is this that we see there ? "
"That is a nameless island. There are so many of
them here."
" Is it true what they say, that some hermits are sav-
ing their souls there ? "
" They say so, your Eeverence, but I do not know
whether it is so. Fishermen say that they have seen
them. But they frequently speak to no purpose."
" I should like to land on that island and see the her-
mits," said the bishop. " How can I do it ? "
"The ship cannot land there," said the helmsman.
" You can get there by a boat, but you must ask the cap-
tain."
The captain was called out.
" I should like to see those hermits," said the bishop.
" Can I not be taken there ? "
S66 THE THREE HERMITS
The captain began to dissuade him.
" It can be done, but it will take much time, and, I
take the liberty of informing your Reverence, it is not
worth while to look at them. I have heard people say
that they were foolish old men : they understand nothing
and cannot speak, just like the fishes of the sea."
" I wish it," said the bishop. " I will pay you for the
trouble, so take me there."
It could not be helped. The sailors shifted the sails
and the helmsman turned the ship, and they sailed toward
the island. A chair was brought out for the bishop
and put at the prow. He sat down and looked. All the
people gathered at the prow, and all kept looking at the
island. Those who had sharper eyes saw the rocks on
the island, and they pointed to the earth hut. And one
man could make out the three hermits. The captain
brought out his spy-glass and looked through it and gave
it to the bishop.
" That's so," he said, " there, on the shore, a little to
the right from that big rock, stand three men."
The bishop looked through the glass and turned it to
the right spot. There were three men there : one tall, a
second smaller, and a third a very small man. They
were standing on the shore and holding each other's
hands.
The captain walked over to the bishop, and said :
" Here, your Reverence, the ship has to stop. If you
wish to go there by all means, you will please go from
here in a boat, and we will wait here at anchor."
The hawsers were let out, the anchor dropped, the sails
furled, and the vessel jerked and shook. A boat was
lowered, the oarsmen jumped into it, and the bishop went
down a ladder. He sat down on a bench in the boat,
and the oarsmen pulled at the oars and rowed toward the
island. They came near to the shore and could see
clearly three men standing there : a tall man, all naked,
I
THE THREE HERMITS 367
with a mat about his loins ; the next in size, in a tattered
caftan ; and the stooping old man, in an old cassock.
There they stood holding each other's hands.
The oarsmen rowed up to the shore and caught their
hook in it. The bishop stepped ashore.
The old men bowed to him. He blessed them, and
they bowed lower still. Then the bishop began to talk
to them :
" I have heard," he said, " that you are here, hermits of
God, saving your souls and praying to Christ our God foi
men. I, an unworthy servant of Christ, have been called
here by the mercy of God to tend His flock, and so I
wanted to see you, the servants of God, and to give you
some instruction, if I can do so."
The hermits kept silence, and smiled, and looked at
one another.
" Tell me, how do you save yourselves and serve God ? "
asked the bishop.
The middle-sized hermit heaved a sigh and looked at
the older, the stooping hermit. And the stooping her-
mit smiled, and said :
" We do not know, 0 servant of God, how to serve
God. We only support ourselves."
" How, then, do you pray to God ? "
And the stooping hermit said :
" We pray as follows : There are three of you and three
of us, — have mercy on us ! "
And the moment the stooping hermit had said that,
all three of them raised their eyes to heaven, and all
three said :
" There are three of you and three of us, — have mercy
on us ! "
The bishop smiled, and said :
" You have heard that about the Holy Trinity, but you
do not pray the proper way. I like you, hermits of God,
and I see that you want to please God, but do not know
368 THE THREE HERMITS
how to serve Him. I will teach you, not according to my
way, but from the Gospel will I teach you as God has
commanded all men to pray to Him."
And the bishop began to explain to the hermits how
God had revealed Himself to men : he explained to them
about God the Father, and God the Son, and God the
Holy Ghost, and said :
" God the Son came down upon earth to save men and
taught them to pray as follows. Listen, and repeat after
me.
And the bishop began to say, " Our Father." And one
of the hermits repeated, " Our Father," and the second re-
peated, " Our Father," and the third repeated, " Our Father."
" Which art in heaven." The hermit repeated, " Which
art in heaven." But the middle hermit got mixed in his
words, and did not say it right ; and the tall, naked her-
mit did not say it right : his moustache was all over his
mouth, and he could not speak clearly ; and the stooping,
toothless hermit, too, lisped it indistinctly.
The bishop repeated it a second time, and the hermits
repeated it after him. And the bishop sat down on a
stone, and the hermits stood around him and looked into
his mouth and repeated after him so long as he spoke.
And the bishop worked with them all day ; he repeated
one word ten, and twenty, and a hundred times, and the
hermits repeated after him. They blundered, and he
corrected them, and made them repeat from the begin-
ning.
The bishop did not leave the hermits until he taught
them the whole Lord's prayer. They said it with him
and by themselves. The middle-sized hermit was the
first to learn it, and he repeated it all by himself. The
bishop made him say it over and over again, and both
the others said the prayer, too.
It was beginning to grow dark, and the moon rose from
the sea, when the bishop got up to go back to the ship.
THE THREE HERMITS 3G9
The bishop bade the hermits good-bye, and they bowed
to the ground before him. He raised each of them, and
kissed them, and told them to pray as he had taught them,
and entered the boat, and was rowed back to the ship.
And as the boat was rowed toward the ship, the bishop
heard the hermits loudly repeating the Lord's prayer in
three voices. The boat came nearer to the ship, and the
voices of the hermits could no longer be heard, but in
the moonlight they could be seen standing on the shore,
in the spot where they had been left : the smallest of
them was in the middle, the tallest on the right, and the
middle-sized man on the left. The bishop reached the
ship and climbed up to the deck. The anchors were
weighed, the sails unfurled, and the wind blew and drove
the ship, and on they sailed. The bishop went to the
prow and sat down there and looked at the island. At
first the hermits could be seen, then they disappeared
from view, and only the island could be seen ; then the
island, too, disappeared, and only the sea glittered in the
moonhght.
The pilgrims lay down to sleep, and everything grew
quiet on the deck. But the bishop did not feel like
sleeping. He sat by himself at the prow and looked out
to sea to where the island had disappeared, and thought
of the good hermits. He thought of how glad they had
been to learn the prayer, and thanked God for having
taken him there to help the God's people, — to teach them
the word of God.
The bishop was sitting and thinking and looking out to
sea to where the island had disappeared. There was some-
thing unsteady in his eyes : now a Hght quivered in one
place on the waves, and now in another. Suddenly he
saw something white and shining in the moonlight, —
either a bird, a gull, or a white sail on a boat. The
bishop watched it closely.
" A sailboat is following after us," he thought. " It
370 THE THREE HERMITS
will soon overtake us. It was far, far away, but now it is
very near. It is evidently not a boat, for there seems to
be no sail. Still it is flying behind us and coming up
close to us."
The bishop could not make out what it was : a boat, no,
it was not a boat ; a bird, no, not a bird ; a fish, no, not
a fish ! It was like a man, but too large for that, and
then, how was a man to be in the middle of the ocean ?
The bishop got up and walked over to the helmsman.
" See there, what is it ? "
" What is it, my friend ? What is it ? " asked the
bishop, but he saw himself that those were the hermits
running over the sea. Their beards shone white, and, as
though the ship were standing still, they came up to it.
The helmsman looked around and was frightened. He
dropped the helm, and called out in a loud voice :
" 0 Lord ! The hermits are running after us on the
sea as though it w^ere dry land ! "
The people heard him, and rushed to the helm. AU
saw the hermits ruuning and holding each other's hands.
Those at the ends waved their hands, asking the ship to
be stopped. All three were running over the water as
though it were dry land, without moving their feet.
Before the ship could be stopped, the hermits came
abreast with the ship. They came up to the gunwale,
raised their heads, and spoke in one voice :
" 0 servant of God, we have forgotten your lesson. So
long as we repeated it, we remembered it ; but when we
stopped for an hour, one word leaped out, and then the
rest scattered. We do not remember a thing, so teach
us again."
The bishop made the sign of the cross, bent down to
the hermits, and said :
" Even your prayer, hermits of God, reaches the Lord.
It is not for me to teach you. Pray for us sinful
men ! "
THE THREE HERMITS 371
And the bishop made a low obeisance to the hermits.
And the hermits stopped, turned around, and walked back
over the sea. And up to morning a light could be seen
on the side where the hermits had departed.
NEGLECT THE FIRE
And You Cannot Put It Out
1885
i
NEGLECT THE FIRE
And You Cannot Put It Out
Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall
my brother sin against me, and I forgive him ? till seven
times ?
Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee, Until seven
times : but, Until seventy times seven.
Therefore is the kingdom of heaven likened unto a cer-
tain king, which vpould take account of his servants.
And when he had begun to reckon, one was brought
unto him, which owed him ten thousand talents.
But forasmuch as he had not to pay, his lord com-
manded him to be sold, and his wife, and children, and all
that he had, and payment to be made.
The servant therefore fell down, and worshipped him,
saying. Lord, have patience with me, and I will pay thee
all.
Then the lord of that servant was moved with compas-
sion, and loosed him, and forgave him the debt.
But the same servant went out, and found one of his
fellowservants, which owed him an hundred pence : and
he laid hands on him, and took him by the throat, saying,
Pay me that thou owest.
And his fellowservant fell down at his feet, and besought
him, saying, Have patience with me, and I will pay thee all.
And he would not : but went and cast him into prison,
till he should pay the debt.
So when his fellowservants saw what was done, they
were very sorry, and came and told unto their lord all that
was done.
Then his lord, after that he had called him, said unto
him, O thou wicked servant, I forgave thee all that debt,
because thou desiredst me :
Shouldest not thou also have had compassion on thy
fellowservant, even as I had pity on thee ?
376
376 NEGLECT THE FIRE
And his lord was wroth, and delivered him to the tor-
mentors, till he should pay all that was due unto him.
So likewise shall my heavenly Father do also unto you,
if ye from your hearts forgive not every one his brother
their trespasses. (Matt, xviii. 21-35.)
There lived in a village a peasant, by the name of Ivan
Shcherbakov. He lived well ; he was himself in full
strength, the first worker in the village, and he had three
sous, — all of them on their legs : one was married, the
second about to marry, and the third a grown-up lad who
drove horses and was beginning to plough. Ivan's wife
was a clever woman and a good housekeeper, and his
daughter-in-law turned out to be a quiet person and a
good worker. There was no reason why Ivan should not
have led a good life with his family. The only idle mouth
on the farm was his old, ailing father (he had been lying
on the oven for seven years, sick with the asthma).
Ivan had plenty of everything, three horses and a colt,
a cow and a yearling calf, and fifteen sheep. The women
made the shoes and the clothes for the men and worked
in the field ; the men worked on their farms.
They had enough grain until the next crop. From the
oats they paid their taxes and met all their obligations.
An easy life, indeed, might Ivan have led with his chil-
dren. But next door to him he had a neighbour, Gavrilo
the Lame, Gordyey Ivauov's son. And there was an
enmity between him and Ivan.
So long as old man Gordyey was ahve, and Ivan's
father ran the farm, the peasants lived in neighbourly
fashion. If the women needed a sieve or a vat, or the
men had to get another axle or wheel for a time, they
sent from one farm to another, and helped each other out
in a neighbourly way. If a calf ran into the yard of the
threshing-floor, they drove it out and only said : " Don't
let it out, for the heap has not yet been put away." And
it was not their custom to put it away and lock it
NEGLECT THE FIRE 377
up in the threshing-floor or in a shed, or to revile each
other.
Thus they hved so long as the old men were alive.
But when the young people began to farm, things went
quite differently.
The whole thing began from a mere nothing. A hen
of Ivan's daughter-in-law started laying early. The
young woman gathered the eggs for Passion week. Every
day she went to the shed to pick up an egg from the
wagon-box. But, it seems, the boys scared away the hen,
and she flew across the wicker fence to the neighbour's
yard, and laid an egg there. The young woman heard
the hen cackle, so she thought :
" I have no time now, I must get the hut in order for
the holiday ; I will go there later to get it."
In the evening she went to the wagon-box under the
shed, to fetch the egg, but it was not there. The young
woman asked her mother-in-law and her brother-in-law if
they had taken it ; but Taraska, her youngest brother-in-
law, said :
" Your hen laid an egg in the neighbour's yard, for she
cackled there and flew out from that yard."
The young woman went to look at her hen, and found
her sitting with the cock on the perch ; she had closed her
eyes and was getting ready to sleep. The woman would
have Hked to ask her where she laid the egg, but she
would not have given her any answer. Then the young
woman went to her neighbour. The old woman met her.
" What do you want, young woman ? "
" Granny, my hen has been in your yard to-day, — did
she not lay an egg there ? "
" I have not set eyes on her. We have hens of our
own, thank God, and they have been laying for quite
awhile. We have gathered our own eggs, and we do not
need other people's eggs. Young woman, we do not go to
other people's yards to gather eggs."
378 NEGLECT THE FIRE
The youDg woman was offended. She said a word too
much, the neighbour answered with two, and the women
began to scold. Ivan's wife was carrying water, and she,
too, took a hand in it. Gavrilo's wife jumped out, and
began to rebuke her neighbour. She reminded her of
things that had happened, and mentioned things that had
not happened at all. And the tongue-lashing began. All
yelled together, trying to say two words at the same time.
And they used bad words.
" You are such and such a one ; you are a thief, a sneak ;
you are simply starving your father-in-law ; you are a
tramp."
" And you are a beggar : you have torn my sieve ; and
you have our shoulder-yoke. Give me back the yoke ! "
They grabbed the yoke, spilled the water, tore off their
kerchiefs, and began to fight. Gavrilo drove up from the
field, and he took his wife's part. Ivan jumped out with
his son, and they all fell in a heap. Ivan was a sturdy
peasant, and he scattered them all. He yanked out a
piece of Gavrilo's beard. People ran up to them, and
they were with difficulty pulled apart.
That's the way it began.
Gavrilo wrapped the piece of his beard in a petition
and went to the township court to enter a complaint.
" I did not raise a beard for freckled Ivan to pull it
out."
In the meantime his wife bragged to the neighbours
that they would now get Ivan sentenced and would have
him sent to Siberia, and the feud began.
The old man on the oven tried to persuade them to
stop the first day they started to quarrel, but the young
people paid no attention to him. He said to them :
" Children, you are doing a foolish thing, and for p
foolish thing have you started a feud. Think of it, —
the whole affair began from an egg. The children picked
up the egg, — well, God be with them ! There is no
NEGLECT THE FIEE 379
profit in one egg. With God's aid there will be enough
for everybody. Well, you have said a bad word, so cor-
rect it, show her how to use better words ! Well, you
have had a fight, — you are sinful people. That, too,
happens. Well, go and make peace, and let there be an
end to it ! If you keep it up, it will only be worse."
The young people did not obey the old man ; they
thought that he was not using sense, but just babbling in
old man's fashion.
Ivan did not give in to his neighbour.
" I did not pull his beard," he said. " He jerked it out
himself ; but his son has yanked off my shirt-button and
has torn my whole shirt. Here it is."
And Ivan, too, took the matter to court. The case was
heard before a justice of the peace, and in the township
court. WhUe they were suing each other, Gavrilo lost a
coupling-pin out of his cart. The women in Gavrilo's
house accused Ivan's son of having taken it.
" We saw him in the night," they said, " making his
way under the window to the cart, and the gossip says
that he went to the dram-shop and asked the dram-shop-
keeper to take the pin from him."
Again they started a suit. But at home not a day
passed but that they quarrelled, nay, even fought. The
children cursed one another, — they learned this from
their elders, — and when the women met at the brook,
they did not so much strike the beetles as let loose their
tongues, and to no good.
At first the men just accused each other, but later they
began to snatch up things that lay about loose. And
they taught the women and children to do the same.
Their life grew worse and worse. Ivan Shcherbakov and
Gavrilo the Lame kept suing one another at the meetings
of the Commune, and in the township court, and before
the justices of the peace, and all the judges were tired of
them. Now Gavrilo got Ivan to pay a fine, or he sent
380 NEGLECT THE FIRE
him to the lockup, and now Ivan did the same to Gav-
rilo. And the more they did each other harm, the more
furious they grew. When dogs make for each other, they
get more enraged the more they fight. You strike a dog
from behind, and he thinks that the other dog is biting
him, and gets only madder than ever. Just so it was
with these peasants : when they went to court, one or the
other was punished, either by being made to pay a
fine, or by being thrown into prison, and that only
made their rage flame up more and more toward one
another.
" Just wait, I will pay you back for it ! "
And thus it went on for six years. The old man on
the oven kept repeating the same advice. He would say
to them :
" What are you doing, my children ? Drop all your
accounts, stick to your work, don't show such malice
toward others, and it will be better. The more you rage,
the worse will it be."
They paid no attention to the old man.
In the seventh year the matter went so far that Ivan's
daughter-in-law at a wedding accused Gavrilo before peo-
ple of having been caught with horses. Gavrilo was
drunk, and he did not hold back his anger, but struck
the woman and hurt her so that she lay sick for a week,
for she was heavy with child. Ivan rejoiced, and went
with a petition to the prosecuting magistrate.
" Now," he thought, " I will get even with my neigh-
bour : he shall not escape the penitentiary or Siberia."
Again Ivan was not successful. The magistrate did
not accept the petition : they examined the woman, but
she was up and there were no marks upon her. Ivan
went to the justice of the peace ; but the justice sent the
case to the township court. Ivan bestirred himself in
the township office, filled the elder and the scribe with
half a bucket of sweet liquor, and got them to sentence
NEGLECT THE FIRE 381
Gavrilo to having his back flogged. The sentence was
read to Gavrilo in the court.
The scribe read :
" The court has decreed that the peasant Gavrilo Gor-
dy^y receive twenty blows with rods in the township
office."
Ivan listened to the decree and looked at Gavrilo, won-
dering what he would do. Gavrilo, too, heard the decree,
and he became as pale as a sheet, and turned away and
walked out into the vestibule. Ivan followed him out
and wanted to go to his horse, when he heard Gavrilo
say:
"Very well, he will beat my back, and it wiU burn,
but something of his may burn worse than that."
When Ivan heard these words, he returned to the
judges.
" Eighteous judges ! He threatens to set fire to my
house. Listen, he said it in the presence of witnesses."
Gavrilo was called in.
" Is it true that you said so ? "
" I said nothing. Flog me, if you please. Evidently
I must suffer for my truth, while he may do anything
he wishes."
Gavrilo wanted to say something more, but his lips
and cheeks trembled. He turned away toward the wall.
Even the judges were frightened as they looked at him.
" It would not be surprising," they thought, " if he
actually did some harm to his neighbour or to himself."
And an old judge said to them :
"Listen, friends! You had better make peace with
each other. Did you do right, brother Gavrilo, to strike
a pregnant woman ? Luckily God was merciful to you,
but think what crime you might have committed ! Is
that good ? Confess your guilt and beg his pardon .
And he will pardon you. Then we shall change the
decree."
382 NEGLECT THE FIRE
The scribe heard that, and said :
"That is impossible, because on the basis of Article
117 there has taken place no reconcihation, but the
decree of the court has been handed down, and the decree
has to be executed."
But the judge paid no attention to the scribe.
" Stop currycombing your tongue. The first article,
my friend, is to remember God, and God has commanded
me to make peace."
And the judge began once more to talk to the peasants,
but he could not persuade them. Gavrilo would not
listen to him.
" I am fifty years old less one," he said, " and I have a
married son. I have not been beaten in all my life, and
now freckled Ivan has brought me to being beaten with
rods, and am I to beg his forgiveness ? Well, he will —
Ivan will remember me ! "
Gavrilo's voice trembled again. He could not talk.
He turned around and went out.
From the township office to the village was a distance
of ten versts, and Ivan returned home late. The women
had already gone out to meet the cattle. He unhitched
his horse, put it away, and entered the hut. The room
was empty. The children had not yet returned from the
field, and the women were out to meet the cattle. Ivan
went in, sat down on a bench, and began to think. He
recalled how the decision was announced to Gavrilo, and
how he grew pale, and turned to the wall. And his
heart was pinched. He thought of how he should feel if
he were condemned to be flogged. He felt sorry for Gav-
rilo. He heard the old man coughing on the oven. The
old man turned around, let down his legs, and sat up.
He pulled himself with difficulty up to the bench, and
ccnighed and coughed, until he cleared his throat, and
leaned against the table, and said :
" Well, have they condemned him ? "
NEGLECT THE FIRE 383
Iv^ said :
" He has been sentenced to twenty strokes with the
rods."
The old man shook his head.
" Ivan, you are not doing right. It's wrong, not wrong
to him, but to yourself. Well, wHl it make you feel
easier, if they flog him ? "
" He will never do it again," said Ivan.
" Why- net ? In what way is he doing worse than
you ? "
" What, he has not harmed me ? " exclaamed Ivan. " He
might have killed the woman ; and he even now threatens
to set fire to my house. Well, shall I bow to him for it ? "
The old man heaved a sigh, and said :
" You, Ivan, walk and drive wherever you please in the
free world, and I have passed many years on the oven,
and so you think that you see everything, while I see
nothing. No, my son, you see nothing, — malice has
dimmed your eyes. Another man's sins are in front of
you, but your own are behind your back. You say that
he has done wrong. If he alone had done wrong, there
would be no harm. Does evil between people arise from
one man only ? Evil arises between two. You see his bad-
ness, but you do not see your own. If he himself were
bad, and you good, there would be no evil. Who pulled
out his beard ? Who blasted the rick which was at
halves ? Who is dragging him to the courts ? And yet
you put it always on him. You yourself live badly, that's
why it is bad. Not thus did I live, and no such thing,
my dear, did I teach you. Did I and the old man, his
father, live this way ? How did we live ? In neighbourly
fashion. If his flour gave out, and the woman came : ' Uncle
Frol, I need some flour.' — ' Go, young woman, into the
granary, and take as much as you need.' If he had no-
body to send out with the horses, — ' Go, Ivan, and look
after his horses ! ' And if I was short of anything, I
384 NEGLECT THE FIRE
used to go to him. * Uncle Gordy^y, J. need this and
that.' And how is it now ? The other day a soldier was
talking about Plevna. Why, your war is worse than
what they did at Plevna. Do you call this living ? It is
a sin ! You are a peasant, a head of a house. You will
be responsible. What are you teaching your women and
/our children ? To curse. The other day Taraska, that
dirty nose, cursed Aunt Arina, and his mother only laughed
at him. Is that good ? You will be responsible for it.
Think of your soul. Is that right ? You say a word to
me, and I answer with two ; you box my ears, and I box
you twice. No, my son, Christ walked over the earth
and taught us fools something quite different. If a word
is said to you, — keep quiet, and let conscience smite
him. That's what he, my sou, has taught us. If they
box your ears, you turn the other cheek to them : ' Here,
strike it if I deserve it.' His own conscience will prick
him. He will be pacified and will do as you wish.
That's what he has commanded us to do, and not to crow.
Why are you silent ? Do I tell you right ? "
Ivan was silent, and he listened.
The old man coughed again, and with difficulty coughed
up the phlegm, and began to speak again :
" Do you think Christ has taught us anything bad ?
He has taught us for our own good. Think of your
earthly life : are you better off, or worse, since that Plevna
of yours was started ? Figure out how much you. have
spent on these courts, how much you have spent in travel-
ling and in feeding yourself on the way ? See what
eagles of sons you have ! You ought to live , and live
well, and go up, but your property is grooving less.
Why ? For the same reason. From your pide. You
ought to be ploughing with the boys in the fiuld and at-
tend to your sowing, but the fiend carries you to court or
to some pettifogger. You do not plough in time and do
not sow in time, and mother earth does not bring forth
NEGLECT THE FIRE 385
anything. Why did the oats not do well this year ?
WTien did you sow them ? When you came back from
the city. And what did you gain from the court ? Only
trouble for yourself. Oh, son, stick to your business,
and attend to your field and your house, and if any one has
offended you, forgive him in godly fashion, and things
will go better with you, and you will feel easier at
heart."
Ivan kept sUence.
" Listen, Ivan ! Pay attention to me, an old man. Go
and hitch the gray horse, and drive straight back to the
office : squash there the whole business, and in the morn-
ing go to Gavrilo, make peace with him in godly fashion,
and invite him to the holiday " (it was before Lady -day),
" have the samovar prepared, get a half bottle, and make
an end to all sins, so that may never happen again, and
command the women and children to live in peace."
Ivan heaved a sigh, and thought : " The old man is
speaking the truth," and his heart melted. The only
thing he did not know was how to manage things so as
to make peace with his neighbour.
And the old man, as though guessing what he had iu
mind, began once more :
" Go, Ivan, do not put it off ! Put out the fire at the
start, for when it bums up, you can't control it."
The old man wanted to say something else, but did not
finish, for the women entered the room and began to
prattle like magpies. The news had already reached
them about how Gavrilo had been sentenced to be flogged,
and how he had threatened to set fire to the house. They
had found out everything, and had had time in the pas-
ture to exchange words with the women of Gavrilo's house.
They said that Gavrilo's daughter-in-law had threatened
them with the examining magistrate. The magistrate, they
said, was receiving gifts from Gavrilo. He would now upset
the whole case, and the teacher had already written another
386 NEGLECT THE FIRE
petition to the Tsar about Ivan, and that petition men-
tioned all the affairs, about the coupling-pin, and about the
garden, — and half of the estate would go back to him.
Ivan listened to their talk, and his heart was chilled
again, and he changed his mind about making peace with
Gavrilo.
In a farmer's yard there is always much to do. Ivan
did not stop to talk with the women, but got up and went
out of the house, and walked over to the thresliing-floor
and the shed. Before he fixed everything and started
back again, the sun went down, and the boys returned
from the field. They had been ploughing up the field
lor the winter crop. Ivan met them, and asked them about
their work and helped them to put up the horses. He
laid aside the torn collar and was about to put some poles
under the shed, when it grew quite dark. Ivan left the
poles until the morrow ; instead he threw some fodder
down to the cattle, opened the gate, let Taraska out with
the horses into the street, to go to the night pasture, and
again closed the gate and put down the gate board.
" Now to supper and to bed," thought Ivan. He took
the torn collar and went into the house. He had entirely
forgotten about Gavrilo, and about what his father had
told him. As he took hold of the ring and was about to
enter the vestibule, he heard his neighbour on the other
side of the wicker fence scolding some one in a hoarse
voice.
" The devil take him ! " Gavrilo was crying to some
one. " He ought to be killed."
These words made all the old anger toward his neigh-
bour burst forth in Ivan. He stood awhile and listened
to Gavrilo's scolding. Then Gavrilo grew quiet, and
Ivan went into the house.
He entered the room. Fire was burning within. The
young woman was sitting in the comer behind the spin-
ning-wheel ; the old woman was getting supper ready ;
NEGLECT THE FIRE 387
the eldest son was making laces for the bast shoes, the
second was at the table with a book, and Taraska was
getting ready to go to the night pasture.
In the house everything was good and merry, if it
were not for that curse, — a bad neighbour.
Ivdn was angry when he entered the room. He
knocked the cat down from the bench and scolded the
women because the vat was not in the right place. Ivdn
felt out of humour. He sat down, frowning, and began
to mend the collar. He could not forget Gavrilo's words,
with which he had threatened him in court, and how he
had said about somebody, speaking in a hoarse voice:
" He ought to be killed."
The old woman got Taraska something to eat. When
he was through with his supper, he put on a fur coat and
a caftan, girded himself, took a piece of bread, and went
out to the horses. The eldest brother wanted to see him
off, but Ivan himself got up and went out on the porch.
It was pitch-dark outside, the sky was clouded, and a
wind had risen. Ivan stepped down from the porch,
helped his little son to get on a horse, frightened a colt
beliind him, and stood looking and listening while Ta-
raska rode down the village, where he met other children,
and until they all rode out of hearing. Ivan stood and
stood at the gate, and could not get Gavrilo's words out
of his head, " Something of yours may burn worse."
" He will not consider himself," thought Ivan. " It is
dry, and a wind is blowing. He will enter somewhere
from behind, the scoundrel, and will set the house on fire,
and he will go free. If I could catch him, he would not
get away from me."
This thought troubled Ivan so much that he did not go
back to the porch, but walked straight into the street and
through the gate, around the corner of the house.
" I will examine the yard, — who knows ? "
And Ivan walked softly down along the gate. He had
388 NEGLECT THE FIRE
just turned around the corner and looked up the fence,
when it seemed to him that something stirred at the
other end, as though it got up and sat down again. Ivan
stopped and stood still, — he listened and looked : every-
thing was quiet, only the wind rustled the leaves in the
willow-tree and crackled through the straw. It was
pitch-dark, but his eyes got used to the darkness : Ivdn
could see the whole corner and the plough and the pent-
house. He stood and looked, but there was no one there.
" It must have only seemed so to me," thought Ivan,
" but I will, nevertheless, go and see," and he stole up
along the shed, Ivan stepped softly in his bast shoes, so
that he did not hear his own steps. He came to the
corner, when, behold, sometliing flashed by near the
plough, and disappeared again. Ivan felt as though
something hit him in the heart, and he stopped. As he
stopped he could see something flashing up, and he could
see clearly some one in a cap squatting down with his
back toward him, and setting fire to a bunch of straw in
his hands. He stood stock-still.
" Now," he thought, " he will not get away from me.
I will catch him on the spot."
Before Ivan had walked two lengths of the fence it
grew quite bright, and no longer in the former place, nor
was it a small fire, but the flame licked up in the straw
of the penthouse and was going toward the roof, and
there stood Gavrilo so that the whole of him could be
seen.
As a hawk swoops down on a lark, so Ivan rushed up
against Gavrilo the Lame.
"I will twist him up," he thought, "and he will not
get away from me."
But Gavrilo the Lame evidently heard his steps and
ran along the shed with as much speed as a hare.
" You will not get away," shouted Ivan, swooping down
on him.
NEGLECT THE FIRE 389
He wanted to grab him by the collar, but Gavrflo got
away from him, and Ivan caught him by the skirt of his
coat. The skirt tore ofif, and Ivan fell down.
Ivan jumped up.
" Help ! Hold him ! " and again he ran.
As he was getting up, GavrOo was already near his
yard, but Ivan caught up with him. He was just going
to take hold of him, when something stunned him, as
though a stone had come down on his head. Gavrilo
had picked up an oak post near his house and hit Ivan
with all his might on the head, when he ran up to him.
Ivan staggered, sparks flew from his eyes, then all
grew dark, and he fell down. When he came to his
senses, Gavrilo was gone. It was as light as day, and
from his yard came a sound as though an engine were
working, and it roared and crackled there. Ivan turned
around and saw that his back shed was all on fire and
the side shed was beginning to burn ; the fire, and the
smoke, and the burning straw were being carried toward
the house.
" What is this ? Friend ! " cried Ivan. He raised his
hands and brought them down on his calves. " If I
could only pull it out from the penthouse, and put it out !
What is this ? Friends ! " he repeated. He wanted to
shout, but he nearly strangled, — he had no voice. He
wanted to run, but his feet would not move, — they
tripped each other up. He tried to walk slowly, but he
staggered, and he nearly strangled. He stood still again
and drew breath, and started to walk. Before he came to
the shed and reached the fire, the side shed was all on
fire, and he could not get into the yard. People came
running up, but nothing could be done. The neighbours
dragged their own things out of their houses, and drove
the cattle out. After Ivan's house, Gavrilo's caught
fire ; a wind rose and carried the fire across the street
Half the village burned down.
390 NEGLECT THE FIRE
All they saved from Ivan's house was the old man, who
was pulled out, and everybody jumped out in just what
they had on. Everything else was burned, except the
horses in the pasture : the cattle were burned, the chick-
ens on their roosts, the carts, the ploughs, the harrows,
the women's chests, the grain in the granary, — every-
thing was burned.
Gavrilo's cattle were saved, and they dragged a few
things out of his house.
It burned for a long time, all night long. Ivdu stood
near his yard, and kept looking at it, and saying :
" What is this ? Friends ! If I could just pull it out
and put it out ! "
But when the ceihug in the hut fell down, he jumped
into the hottest place, took hold of a brand, and wanted
to pull it out. The women saw him and began to call
him back, but he pulled out one log and started for
another : he staggered and fell on the tire. Then his son
rushed after him and dragged him out. Ivan had his
hair and beard singed and his garments burnt and his
hands bhstered, but he did not feel anything.
" His sorrow has bereft him of his senses," people said.
The fire died down, but Ivan was still standing there,
and saying :
" Friends, what is this ? If I could only pull it out."
In the morning the elder sent his son to Ivan.
" Uncle Ivan, your father is dying : he has sent for
you, to bid you good-bye."
Ivan had forgotten about his father, and did not under-
stand what they were saying to him.
" What father ? " he said. " Send for whom ? "
" He has sent for you, to bid you good-bye. He
is dying in our house. Come, Uncle Ivan ! " said the
elder's son, pulling him by his arm.
Ivan followed the elder's son.
When the old man was carried out, burning straw fell on
NEGLECT THE FIRE 391
him and scorched him. He was taken to the elder's house
in a distant part of the village. This part did not burn.
When Ivan came to his father, only the elder's wife
was there, and the children on the oven. The rest were
all at the fire. The old man was lying on a bench, with
a taper in his hand, and looking toward the door. When
his son entered, he stirred a httle. The old woman went
up to him and said that his son had come. He told her
to have him come closer to him. Ivan went up, and then
the old man said :
" What have I told you, Ivan ? Who has burned the
village ? "
" He, father," said Ivan, " he, — I caught him at it.
He put the fire to the roof while I was standing near. If
I could only have caught the burning bunch of straw and
put it out, there would not have been anything."
" Ivan," said the old man, " my death has come, and
you, too, will die. Whose sin is it ? "
Ivan stared at his father and kept silence; he could
not say a word.
" Speak before God : whose sin is it ? What have I
told you ? "
It was only then that Ivan came to his senses, and
understood everything. And he snuffled, and said :
" Mine, father." And he knelt before his father, and
wept, and said : " Forgive me, father ! I am guilty
toward you and toward God."
The old man moved his hands, took the taper in his
left hand, and was moving his right hand toward his
brow, to make the sign of the cross, but he did not get
it so far, and he stopped.
« Glory be to thee, 0 Lord ! Glory be to thee, O Lord ! "
he said, and his eyes were again turned toward his son.
" Ivan ! Oh, Ivan ! "
« What is it, father ? "
" What is to be done now ? **
392 NEGLECT THE FIRE
Ivan was weeping.
" I do not know, father," he said. " How am I to live
now, father ? "
The old man closed his eyes and lisped something, as
though gathering all his strength, and he once more opened
his eyes and said :
" You will get along. With God's aid will you get
along." The old man was silent awhile, and he smiled
and said :
" Eemember, Ivan, you must not tell who started the fire.
Cover up another man's sin ! God will forgive two sins."
And the old man took the taper into both hands, folded
them over his heart, heaved a sigh, stretched himself, and
died.
Ivan did not tell on Gavrilo, and nobody found out
how the fire had been started.
And Ivan's heart was softened toward Gavrilo, and
Gavrilo marvelled at Ivan, because he did not tell any-
body. At first Gavrilo was afraid of him, but later he
got used to him. The peasants stopped quarrelhng, and
so did their families. While they rebuilt their homes,
the two families lived in one house, and when the village
was built again, and the farmhouses were built farther
apart, Ivan and Gavrilo again were neighbours, living in
the same block.
And Ivan and Gavrilo lived neighbourly together, just as
their fathers had hved. Ivan Shcherbakov remembered
his father's injunction and God's command to put out the
fire in the beginning. And if a person did him some
harm, he did not try to have his revenge on the man, but
to mend matters ; and if a person called him a bad name,
he did not try to answer with worse words still, but to
teach him not to speak badly. And thus he taught also
the women folk and the children. And Ivan Shcher-
bakdv improved and began to live better than ever.
THE CANDLE
1885
THE CANDLE
Ye have heard that it hath been said, An eye for an
eye, and a tooth for a tooth : but I say unto you, That
ye resist not evil. (Matt. v. 38, 39.)
This happened in the days of slavery. There were
then all kinds of masters. There were such as remembered
their hour of death and God, and took pity on their people,
and there were dogs, — not by that may their memory
live ! But there were no meaner masters than those who
from serfdom rose, as though out of the mud, to be lords !
With them life was hardest of all.
There happened to be such a clerk in a manorial estate.
The peasants were doing manorial labour. There was
much land, and the land was good, and there was water,
and meadows, and forests. There would have been enough
for everybody, both for the master and for the peasants,
but the master had placed over them a clerk, a manorial
servant of his from another estate.
The clerk took the power into his own hand, and sat
down on the peasants' necks. He was a married man, —
he had a wife and two married daughters, — and had
saved some money : he might have lived gloriously with-
out sin, but he was envious, and stuck fast in sin. He
began by driving the peasants to manorial labour more
than the usual number of days. He started a brick-kiln,
and he drove all the men and women to work in it above
395
396 THE CANDLE
their strength, and sold the brick. The peasants went
to the proprietor in Moscow to complain against him, but
they were not successful. When the clerk learned that
the peasants had entered a complaint against him, he took
Ms revenge out of them. The peasants led a harder life
still. There were found faithless people among the
peasants : they began to denounce their own brotbers to
the clerk, and to slander one another. And all the people
became involved, and the clerk was furious.
The further it went, the worse it got, and the clerk
carried on so terribly that the people became afraid of
him as of a wolf. When he drove through the village,
everybody ran away from him as from a wolf, so as not to
be seen by him. The clerk saw that and raved more than
ever because people were afraid of him. He tortured the
peasants with beating and with work, and they suffered
very much from him.
It used to happen that such evil-doers were put out of
the way, and the peasants began to talk that way about
him. They would meet somewhere secretly, and such as
were bolder would say :
" How long are we going to endure this evil-doer ? We
are perishing anyway, — and it is no sin to kill a man
hke him."
One day the peasants met in the forest, before Easter
week : the clerk had sent them to clean up the manorial
woods. They came together at dinner-time, and began
to talk :
" How can we live now ? " they said. " He will root
us up. He has worn us out with work : neither in the
daytime nor at night does he give any rest to us or to
the women. And the moment a thing does not go the
way he wants it to, he nags at us and has us flogged.
Sem^n died from that flogging ; Anisim he wore out in
the stocks. What are we waiting for ? He will come
here in the evening and will again start to torment us.
THE CANDLE 397
We ought just to pull him down from his horse, whack
him with an axe, and that will be the end of it. We
will bury him somewhere like a dog, and mum is the
word. Let us agree to stand by each other and not give
ourselves away."
Thus spoke Vasili Minaev. He was more furious at
the clerk than anybody else. The clerk had him flogged
every week, and had taken his wife from him and made
her a cook at his house.
Thus the peasants talked, and in the evening the clerk
came. He came on horseback, and immediately began to
nag them because they were not cutting right. He found
a linden-tree in the heap.
" I have commanded you not to cut any lindens down,"
he said. " Who cut it down ? Tell me, or I will have
every one of you flogged ! "
He tried to And out in whose row the linden was.
They pointed to Sidor. The clerk beat Sidor's face until
the blood came, and struck Vasili with a whip because
his pile was small. He rode home.
In the evening the peasants met again, and Vasili be-
gan to speak.
" Oh, people, you are not men, but sparrows ! ' We
will stand up, we will stand up ! ' but when the time for
action came, they all flew under the roof. Even thus the
sparrows made a stand against the hawk : ' We will not
give away, we will not give away ! We will make a stand,
we will make a stand ! ' But when he swooped down on
them, they made for the nettles. And the hawk seized
one of the sparrows, the one he wanted, and flew away
with him. Out leaped the sparrows : ' Chivik, chivik ! '
one of them was lacking. ' Who is gone ? Vanka. Well,
served him right ! ' Just so you did. ' We will not give
each other away, we will not give each other away ! '
When he took hold of Sidor, you ought to have come
together and made an end of him. But there you say,
398 THE CANDLE
• We will not give away, we will not give away ! We
will make a stand, we will make a stand ! ' and when he
swooped down on you, you made for the bushes."
The peasants began to talk that way oftener and
oftener, and they decided fully to make away with the
clerk. During Passion week the clerk told the peasants
to get ready to plough the manorial land for oats during
Easter week. That seemed offensive to the peasants, and
they gathered during Passion week in Vasili's back yard,
and began to talk.
" If he has forgotten God," they said, " and wants to do
such things, we must certainly kill him. We shall
be ruined anyway."
Peter Mikhy^ev came to them. He was a peaceable
man, and did not take counsel with the peasants. He
came, and listened to their speeches, and said :
" Brothers, you are planning a great crime. It is a
serious matter to ruin a soul. It is easy to ruin some-
body else's soul, but how about our own souls ? He is
doing wrong, and the wrong is at his door. We must
suffer, brothers."
VasiU grew angry at these words.
" He has got it into his head that it is a sin to kill a
man. Of course it is, but what kind of a man is he ? It
is a sin to kill a good man, but such a dog even God has
commanded us to kill. A mad dog has to be killed, if
we are to pity men. If we do not kill him, there will be
a greater sin. What a lot of people he will ruin ! Though
we shall suffer, it will at least be for other people. Men
will thank us for it. If we stand gaping he will ruin us
all. You are speaking nonsense, Mikhy^ev. Will it be
a lesser sin if we go to work on Christ's holiday ? You
yourself will not go."
And Mikhy(5ev said :
" Why should I not go ? If they send me, I will go to
plough. It is not for me. God will find out whose sin
THE CANDLE 399
it is, so long as we do not forget him. Brothers, I am
not speaking for myself. If we were enjoined to repay
evil with evil, there would be a commandment of that
kind, but we are taught just the opposite. You start to
do away with evil, and it will only pass into you. It is
not a hard thing to kill a man. But the blood sticks
to your soul. To kill a man means to soil your soul with
blood. You imagine that when you kill a bad man you
have got rid of the evil, but, behold, you have reared a
worse evil within you. Submit to misfortune, and mis-
fortune will be vanquished."
The peasants could not come to any agreement : their
thoughts were scattered. Some of them believed with
Vasili, and others agreed with Peter's speech that they
ought not commit a crime, but endure.
The peasants celebrated the first day, the Sunday. In
the evening the elder came with the deputies from the
manor, and said :
" Mikhail Semenovich, the clerk, has commanded me to
get all the peasants ready for the morrow, to plough the
field for the oats." The elder made the round of the vil-
lage with the deputies and ordered all to go out on the
morrow to plough, some beyond the river, and some from
the highway. The peasants wept, but did not dare to
disobey, and on the morrow went out with their ploughs
and began to plough.
Mikhail Semenovich, the clerk, awoke late, and went
out to look after the farm. His home folk — his wife
and his widowed daughter (she had come for the holidays)
— were all dressed up. A labourer hitched a cart for
them, and they went to mass, and returned home again.
A servant made the samovar, and when Mikhail Semeno-
vich came, they sat down to drink tea. Mikhail Semeno-
vich drank his tea, hghted a pipe, and sent for the elder.
" Well," he said, " have you sent out the peasants to
plough?"
400 THE CANDLE
" Yes, Mikhail Sem&iovich."
" Well, did all of them go ? "
''■ All. I placed them myself."
" Of course, you have placed them, — but are they
ploughing ? Go and see, and tell them that I will be
there in the afternoon, and by that time they are to plough
a desyatina to each two ploughs, and plough it weJl. If
I find any unploughed strips, I will pay no attention to
the holiday."
" Yes, sir."
The elder started to go out, but Mikhail Sem^novich
called him back. He called him back, but he hesitated,
for he wanted to say something and did not know how to
say it. He hesitated awhile, and then he said :
" Listen to what those robbers are saying about me.
Tell me everything, — who is scolding me, or whatever
they may be saying. I know those robbers : they do not
like to work ; all they want to do is to lie on their sides
and loaf. To eat and be idle, that is what they like ;
they do not consider that if the time of ploughing is
missed it will be too late. So listen to what they have
to say, and let me know everything you may hear ! Go,
but be sure you tell me everything and keep nothing
from me ! "
The elder turned around and left the room. He
mounted his horse and rode into the field to the peasants.
The clerk's wife had heard her husband's talk with the
elder, and she came in and began to implore him. The
wife of the clerk was a peaceable woman, and she had a
good heart. Whenever she could, she calmed her hus-
band and took the peasants' part.
She came to her husband, and began to beg him : " My
dear Mishenka, do not sin, for the Lord's holiday ! For
Christ's sake, send the peasants home ! "
Mikhail Sem&ovich did not accept his wife's words,
but only laughed at her :
THE CANDLE 401
" Is it too long a time since the whip danced over you
that you have become so bold, and meddle in what is not
your concern ? "
" Mishenka, my dear, I have had a bad dream about
you. Listen to my words and send the peasants home ! "
" Precisely, that's what I say. Evidently you have
gathered so much fat that you think the whip will not
hurt you. Look out ! "
Sem^novich grew angry, knocked the burning pipe into
her teeth, sent her away, and told her to get the dinner
ready.
Mikhail Sem^novich ate cold gelatine, dumplings, beet
soup with pork, roast pig, and milk noodles, and drank
cherry cordial, and ate pastry for dessert ; he called in
the cook and made her sit down and sing songs to him,
while he himself took the guitar and accompanied her.
Mikhail Sem^novich was sitting in a happy mood and
belching, and strumming the guitar, and laughing with the
cook. The elder came in, made a bow, and began to
report what he had seen in the field.
" Well, are they ploughing ? Will they finish the task ? "
" They have already ploughed more than half."
" No strips left ? "
" I have not seen any. They are afraid, and are work-
ing well."
" And are they breaking up the dirt well ? "
" The earth is soft and falls to pieces like a poppy."
The clerk was silent for awhile.
" What do they say about me ? Are they cursing me ? "■"
The elder hesitated, but Mikhail Sem^novich com-
manded him to tell the whole truth.
" Tell everything ! You are not going to tell me your
words, but theirs. If you tell me the truth, I will reward
you ; and if you shield them, look out, I will bave you
flogged. 0 Katyusha, give him a glass of vodka to brace
him up ! "
402 THE CANDLE
The cook went and brought the elder the vodka. The
elder saluted, drank the vodka, wiped his mouth, and
began to speak. " I cannot help it," he thought, " it is
not my fault if they do not praise him ; I will tell him
the truth, if he wants it." And the elder took courage
and said :
" They murmur, Mikhail Sem^uovich, they murmur."
" What do they say ? Speak ! "
" They keep saying that you do not believe in God."
The clerk laughed.
" Who said that ? "
" All say so. They say that you are submitting to the
devil."
The clerk laughed.
" That is all very well," he said, " but tell me in par-
ticular what each says. What does Vasili say ? "
The elder did not wish to tell on his people, but with
Vasili he had long been in a feud.
" Vasili," he said, " curses more than the rest."
" What does he say ? Tell me ! "
" It is too terrible to tell. He says that you will die an
unrepenting death."
" What a brave fellow ! " he said. " Why, then, is he
gaping ? Why does he not kill me ? Evidently his arms
are too short. All right," he said, " Vasili, we will square
up accounts. And Tishka, that dog, I suppose he says so,
too ? "
" All speak ill of you."
" But what do they say ? "
" I loathe to tell."
" Never mind ! Take courage and speak ! "
" They say : ' May his belly burst, and his guts run
out ! ' "
Mikhail Sem^novich was delighted, and he even laughed.
" We will see whose will run out first. Who said that ?
Tishka ? "
THE CANDLE
403
"Nobody said a good word. All of them curse you
and threaten you."
" Well, and Peter Mikhy^ev ? What does he say ? He,
too, I suppose, is cursing me ? "
" No, Mikhail Semenovich, Peter is not cursing."
" What does he say ? "
" He is the only one of all the peasants who is not
saying anything. He is a wise peasant. I wondered at
him, Mikhail Semenovich."
« How so ? "
" All the peasants were wondering at what he was
doing."
" What was he doing ? "
" It is wonderful. I rode up to him. He is ploughing
the slanting desyatina at Tiirkin Height. As I rode up
to him, I heard some one singing such nice, high tones,
and on the plough-staff something was shining."
" Well ? "
" It was shining like a light. I rode up to him, and
there I saw a five-kopek wax candle was stuck on the
cross-bar and burning, and the wind did not blow it out.
He had on a clean shirt, and was ploughing and singing
Sunday hymns. And he would turn over and shake off
the dirt, but the candle did not go out. He shook the
plough in my presence, changed the peg, and started
the plough, but the candle was still burning and did not
go out."
" And what did he say ? "
" He said nothing. When he saw me, he greeted me
and at once began to sing again."
" What did you say to him ? "
" I did not say anything to him, but the peasants came
up and laughed at him : ' Mikhy^ev will not get rid of his
sin of ploughing during Easter week even if he should
pray all his life.' "
" What did he say to that ? "
404 THE CANDLE
" All he said was : ' Peace on earth and good-will to
men.' He took his plough, started his horses, and sang
out in a thin voice, but the candle kept burning and did
not go out."
The clerk stopped laughing. He put down the guitar,
lowered his head, and fell to musing.
He sat awhile ; then he sent away the cook and the
elder, went behind the curtain, lay down on the bed, and
began to sigh and to sob, just as though a cart were dri-
ving past with sheaves. His wife came and began to speak
to him ; he gave her no answer. All he said was :
" He has vanquished me. My turn has come."
His wife tried to calm him.
" Go and send them home ! Maybe it will be all right.
See what deeds you have done, and now you lose your
courage."
" I am lost," he said. " He has vanquished me."
His wife cried to him :
" You just have it on your brain, ' He has vanquished
me, he has vanquished me.' Go and send the peasants
home, and all will be well. Go, and I will have your horse
saddled."
The horse was brought up, and the clerk's wife per-
suaded him to ride into the field to send the peasants
home.
Mikhail Sem^novich mounted his horse and rode into
the field. He drove through the yard, and a woman
opened the gate for him, and he passed into the village.
The moment the people saw the clerk, they hid them-
selves from him, one in the yard, another around a corner,
a third in the garden.
The clerk rode through the whole village and reached
the outer gate. The gate was shut, and he could not open
it while sitting on his horse. He called and called for
somebody to open the gate, but no one would come. He
got down from his horse, opened the gate, and in the gate-
THE CANDLE 405
way started to mount again. He put his foot into the
stirrup, rose in it, and was on the point of vaulting over
the saddle, when his horse shied at a pig and backed up
toward the . picket fence ; he was a heavy man and did
not get into his saddle, but fell over, with his belly on
picket. There was but one sharp post in the picket
fence, and it was higher than the rest. It was this post
that he struck with his belly. He was ripped open and
fell to the ground.
When the peasants drove home from their w^ork, the
horses snorted and would not go through the gate. The
peasants went to look, and saw Mikhail lying on his back.
His arms were stretched out, his eyes stood open, and all
his inside had run out and the blood stood in a pool, —
the earth had not sucked it in.
The peasants were frightened. They took their horses
in by back roads, but Mikhy^ev alone got down and
walked over to the clerk. He saw that he was dead, so
he closed his eyes, hitched his cart, with the aid of his
son put the dead man in the bed of the cart, and took
him to the manor.
The master heard about all these things, and to save
himself from sin substituted tenant pay for the manorial
labour.
And the peasants saw that the power of God was not
in sin, but in goodness.
THE TWO OLD MEN
1885
THE TWO OLD MEN
Therefore, being wearied with his journey, sat thus on the
well : and it was about the sixth hour. There cometh a
woman of Samaria to draw water : Jesus saith unto her,
Give me to drink. (For his disciples were gone away unto
the city to buy meat.) Then saith the woman of Samaria
unto him, How is it that thou, being a Jew, askest drink of
me, which am a woman of Samaria ? for the Jews have no
dealings with the Samaritans. Jesus answered and said
unto her, If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is
that saith to thee, Give me to drink ; thou wouldest have
asked of him, for the Pather seeketh such to worship him.
(Johuiv. 19-23.)
I.
Two old men got ready to go to old Jerusalem to pray-
to God. One of them was a rich peasant ; his name was
Efim Tarasych Shevel^v. The other was not a well-to-do
man, and his name was Elis^y Bodrov.
Efim was a steady man : he did not drink liquor, nor
smoke tobacco, nor take snuff, had never cursed in his
life, and was a stern, firm old man. He had served two
terms as an elder, and had gone out of his office without
a deficit. He had a large family, — two sons and a
married grandson, — and all lived together. As to looks
he was a sound, bearded, erect man, and only in his
seventh decade did a gray streak appear in his beard.
Elisey was neither wealthy nor poor ; in former days
he used to work out as a carpenter, but in his old age he
409
410 THE TWO OLD MEN
stayed at home and kept bees. One son was away earn-
ing money, and another was living at home. Elis^y was
a good-natured and merry man. He liked to drink liquor
and take snuff, and sing songs ; but he was a peaceable
man, and lived in friendship with his home folk and with
the neighbours. In appearance he was an undersized,
swarthy man, with a curly beard and, like his saint,
Prophet Elisha, his whole head was bald.
The old men had long ago made the vow and agreed to
go together, but Tarasych had had no time before : he had
so much business on hand. The moment one thing came
to an end, another began ; now he had to get his grandson
married, now he was expecting his younger son back from
the army, and now he had to build him a new hut.
On a hohday the two old men once met, and they sat
down on logs.
" Well," said Elis^y, " when are we going to carry out
our vow ? "
Efim frowned.
" We shall have to wait," he said, " for this is a hard
year for me. I have started to build a house, — I thought
I could do it with one hundred, but it is going on now in
the third. And still it is not done. We shall have to
let it go till summer. In the summer, God willing, we
shall go by all means."
" According to my understanding," said EHs^y, " there
is no sense in delaying. We ought to go at once. Spring
is the best time."
" The time is all right, but the work is begun, so how
can I drop it ? "
" Have you nobody to attend to it ? Your son will do it."
" Do it ? My eldest is not reliable, — he drinks."
" When we die, friend, they will get along without us.
Let your son learn it ! "
" That is so, but still I want to see things done under
my eyes."
THE TWO OLD MEN 411
" Oh, dear mau ! You can never attend to everything.
The other day the women in my house were washing and
cleaning up for the holidays. This and that had to be
done, and everything could not be looked after. My
eldest daughter-in-law, a clever woman, said : * It is a
lucky thing the holidays come without waiting for us, for
else, no matter how much we might work, we should never
get done.' "
Tarasych fell to musing.
" I have spent a great deal of money on this building,"
he said, " and I can't start out on the pilgrimage with empty
hands. One hundred roubles are not a trifling matter."
Elis^y laughed.
" Don't sin, friend ! " he said. " You have ten times as
much as I, and yet you talk about money. Only say
when we shall start. I have no money, but that will be
all right."
Tarasych smiled.
" What a rich man you are ! " he said. " Where shall
you get the money from ? "
" I will scratch around in the house and will get to-
gether some there ; and if that is not enough, I will let
my neighbour have ten hives. He has been asking me
for them."
" You will have a fine swarm ! You will be worrying
about it."
" Worrying ? No, my friend ! I have never worried
about anything in life but sins. There is nothing more
precious than the soul."
" That is so ; but still, it is not good if things do not run
right at home."
" If things do not run right in our soul, it is worse. We
have made a vow, so let us go '< Truly, let us go ! "
n.
Elisey persuaded his friend to go. Efim thought and
thouglit about it, and on the following morning he came
to Elisey.
" Well, let us go," he said, " you have spoken rightly.
God controls life and death. We must go while we are
alive and have strength."
A week later the old men started.
Tarasych had money at home. He took one hundred
roubles with him and left two hundred with his wife.
Elisey, too, got ready. He sold his neighbour ten hives
and the increase of ten other hives. For the whole he
received seventy roubles. The remaining thirty roubles
he swept up from everybody in the house. His wife gave
him the last she had, — she had put it away for her
funeral ; his daughter-in-law gave him what she had.
Efim Tarasych left all his affairs in the hands of his
eldest son : he told him where to mow, and how many
fields to mow, and where to haul the manure, and how to
finish the hut and thatch it. He considered everything, and
gave his orders. But all the order that Elisey gave was
that his wife should set out the young brood separately
from the hives sold and give the neighbour what belonged
to him without cheating him, but about domestic affairs
he did not even speak : " The needs themselves," he
thought, " will show you what to do and how to do it.
You have been farming yourselves, so you will do as
seems best to you."
The old men got ready. The home folk baked a lot of
flat cakes for them, and they made wallets for themselves,
412
THE TWO OLD MEN 413
cut out new leg-rags, put on new short boots, took reserve
bast shoes, and started. The home folk saw them off
beyond the enclosure and bade them good-bye, and the
old men were off for their pilgrimage.
Elis^y left in a happy mood, and as soon as he left his
village he forgot all his affairs. All the care he had was
how to please his companion, how to keep from saying an
unseemly word to anybody, how to reach the goal in peace
and love, and how to get home again. As Ehs^y v/alked
along the road lie either muttered some prayer or repeated
such of the hves of the saints as he knew. Whenever he
met a person on the road, or when he came to a hostelry,
he tried to be as kind to everybody as he could, and to
say to them God-fearing words. He walked along and
was happy. There was only one thing Ehe^y could not
do : he wanted to stop taking snuff and had left his snuff-
box at home, but he hankered for it. On the road a man
offered him some. He wrangled with himself and stepped
away from his companion so as not to lead him into sin,
and took a pinch.
Efim Tarasych walked firmly and well ; he did no
wrong and spoke no vain words, but there was no light-
ness in his heart. The cares about his home did not
leave his mind. He was thinking all the time about
what was going on at home, — whether he had not for-
gotten to give his son some order, and whether his son
was doing things in the right way. When he saw along
the road that they were setting out potatoes or hauhng
manure, he wondered whether his sou was doing as he
had been ordered. He just felt like returning, and show-
ing him what to do, and doing it himself.
III.
The old men walked for five weeks. They wore out
their home-made bast shoes and began to buy new ones.
They reached the country of the Little-Eussians. Here-
tofore they had been paying for their night's lodging and
for their dinner, but when they came to the Little-Kus-
sians, people vied with each other in inviting them to
their houses. They let them come in, and fed them, and
took no money from them, but even filled their wallets
with bread, and now and then with flat cakes. Thus the
old men walked without expense some seven hundred
versts. They crossed another Government and came to
a place where there had been a failure of crops. There
they let them into the houses and did not take any money
for their night's lodging, but would not feed them. And
they did not give them bread everywhere, — not even for
money could the old men get any in some places. The
previous year, so the people said, nothing had grown.
Those who had been rich were ruined, — they sold every-
thing ; those who had lived in comfort came down to
nothing ; and the poor people either entirely left the
country, or turned beggars, or just managed to exist at
home. In the winter they hved on chaff and orach.
One night the two old men stayed in a borough. There
they bouglit about fifteen pounds of bread. In the morn-
ing they left before daybreak, so that they might walk a
good distance before the heat. They marched some ten
versts and reached a brook. They sat down, filled their
cups with water, softened the bread with it and ate it,
and changed their leg-rags. They sat awhile and rested
THE TWO OLD MEN 415
themselves. Elisey took out his snuff -horu. Efim Tara-
sych shook his head at him.
" Why don't you throw away that nasty thing ? " he
asked.
Elisey waved his hand.
" Sin has overpowered me," he said. " What shall
I do?"
They got 'ip and marched on. They walked another
ten versts. They came to a large village, and passed
through it. It was quite warm then. Elisey was tired,
and wanted to stop and get a drink, but Tarasych would
not stop. Tarasych was a better walker, and Elisey had
a hard time keeping up with him.
" I should like to get a drink," he said.
" Well, drink ! I do not want any."
Elisey stopped.
" Do not wait for me," he said. " I will just run into
a hut and get a drink of water. I will catch up with
you at once."
" All right," he said. And Efim Tarasych proceeded
by himself along the road, while Elisey turned to go into
a hut.
Elisey came up to the hut. It was a small clay cabin ;
the lower part was black, the upper white, and the clay
had long ago crumbled off, — evidently it had not been
plastered for a long time, — and the roof was open at one
end. The entrance was from the yard. Elisey stepped
into the yard, and there saw that a lean, beardless man
with his shirt stuck in his trousers in Little-Eussian
fashion was lying near the earth mound. The man had
evidently lain down in a cool spot, but now the sun was
burning down upon him. He was lying there awake.
Elisey called out to him, asking him to give him a drink,
but the man made no reply. " He is either sick, or an
unkind man," thought Ehs^y, going up to the door. In-
side he heard a child crying. He knocked with the door-
416 THE TWO OLD MEN
ring. " Good people ! " No answer. He struck with his
staff against the door. " Christian people ! " No stir.
" Servants of the Lord ! " No reply. Elis^y was on the
point of going away, when he heard somebody groaning
within. " I wonder whether some misfortune has hap-
pened there to the people. I must see." And Ehs^y
went into the b at.
IV.
Elisey turned the ring, — the door was not locked.
He pushed the door open and walked through the vesti-
bule. The door into the living-room was open. On the
left there was an oven ; straight ahead was the frout
corner ; in the corner stood a shrine and a table ; beyond
the table was a bench, and on it sat a bareheaded old
woman, in nothing but a shirt ; her head was leaning on
the table, and near her stood a lean little boy, his face as
yellow as wax and his belly swollen, and he was pulling
the old woman's sleeve, and crying at the top of his voice
and begging for something.
Elisey entered the room. There was a stifling air in
the house. He saw a woman lying behind the oven,
on the floor. She was lying on her face without looking
at anything, and snoring, and now stretching out a leg
and again drawing it up. And she tossed from side to
side, — and from her came that oppressive smell : evi-
dently she was very sick, and there was nobody to take
her away. The old woman raised her head, when she
saw the man.
" What do you want ? " she said, in Little-Eussian.
" What do you want ? We have nothing, my dear man."
Ehs^y understood what she was saying : he walked
over to her.
" Servant of the Lord," he said, " I have come in to get
a drink of water."
" There is none, I say, there is none. There is nothing
here for you to take. Go ! "
Elisey asked her :
417
418 THE TWO OLD MEN
" Is there no well man here to take this woman away ? "
" There is nobody here : the man is dying in the yard,
and we here."
The boy grew quiet when he saw the stranger, but
when the old woman began to speak, he again took hold
of her sleeve.
" Bread, granny, bread ! " and he burst out weeping.
Just as Elis(5y was going to ask the old woman another
question, the man tumbled into the hut ; he walked along
the wall and wanted to sit down on the bench, but before
reaching it he fell down in the corner, near the threshold.
He did not try to get up, but began to speak. He would
say one word at a time, then draw his breath, then say
something again.
" We are sick," he said, " and — hungry. The boy is
starving." He indicated the boy with his head and began
to weep.
Elis^y shifted his wallet on his back, freed his arms,
let the wallet down on the ground, lifted it on the bench,
and untied it. When it was open, he took out the bread
and the knife, cut off a slice, and gave it to the man.
The man did not take it, but pointed to the boy and the
girl, to have it given to them. Elis^y gave it to the boy.
When the boy saw the bread, he made for it, grabbed the
shce with both his hands, and stuck his nose into the bread.
A girl crawled out from behind the oven and gazed at the
bread. Elis^y gave her, too, a piece. He cut off another
slice and gave it to the old woman. She took it and
began to chew at it.
" If you would just bring us some water," she said.
" Their lips are parched. I wanted to bring some yester-
day or to-day, — I do not remember when, — but I fell
down and left the pail there, if nobody took it away."
Elis^y asked where their well was. The old woman
told him where. Ehs^y went out. He found the pail,
brought some water, and gave the people to drink. The
THE TWO OLD MEN 419
children ate some more bread with water, and the old
woman ate some, but the man would not eat.
" My stomach will not hold it," he said.
The woman did not get up or come to : she was
just tossing on the bed place. Elis^y went to the shop,
and bought millet, salt, flour, and butter. He found an
axe, chopped some wood, and made a fire in the oven.
The girl helped him. Elis^y cooked a soup and porridge,
and fed the people.
V.
The man ate a little, and so did the old woman, and
the girl and the little boy licked the bowl clean and
embraced each other and fell asleep.
The man and the old woman told Ehs^y how it had
all happened.
" "V^^ hved heretofore poorly," they said, " but when
the crop failed us, we ate up in the fall everythiug we
had. When we had nothing left, we began to beg from
our neighbours and from good people. At first tbey gave
us some, but later they refused. Some of them would
have been willing to give us to eat, but they had notliing
themselves. Besides we felt ashamed to beg : we owed
everybody money and flour and bread. I looked for
work," said the man, " but could find none. People were
everywhere looking for work to get something to eat.
One day I would work, and two I would go around look-
ing for more work. The old woman and the girl went a
distance away to beg, but the alms were poor, — nobody
had any bread. Still, we managed to get something to
eat : we thought we might squeeze through until the new
crop; but in the spring they quit giving us alms alto-
gether, and sickness fell upon us. It grew pretty bad :
one day we would have something to eat, and two we
went without it. We began to eat grass. And from the
grass, or from some other reason, the woman grew sick.
She lay down, and I had no strength, and we had nothing
with which to improve matters."
" I was the only one," the old woman said, " who
worked : but I gave out and grew weak, as I had nothing
420
THE TWO OLD MEN 421
to eat. The girl, too, grew weak and lost her courage.
I sent her to the neighbours, but she did not go. She hid
herself in a corner and would not go. A neighbour came
in two days ago, but when she saw that we were hungry
and sick, she turned around and went out. Her husband
has left, and she has nothing with which to feed her
young children. So we were lying here and waiting for
death."
When Elis^y heard what they said, he changed his
mind about catching up with his companion, and re-
mained there overnight. In the morning Elis^y got up
and began to work about the house as though he were the
master. He set bread with the old woman and made a
fire in the oven. He went with the girl to the neigh-
bours to fetch what was necessary. Everything he
wanted to pick up was gone : there was nothing left for
farming, and the clothes were used up. Elis^y got every-
thing which was needed : some things he made himself,
and some he bought. Elis^y stayed with them one day,
and a second, and a third. The little boy regained his
strength, and he began to walk on tlie bench and to make
friends with Elisey. The girl, too, became quite cheerful
and helped him in everything. She kept running after
Elisey : " Grandfather, grandfather ! "
The old woman got up and went to her neighbour.
The man began to walk by holding on to the wall. Only
the woman was lying down. On the third day she came
to and asked for something to eat.
" Well," thought Elisey, " I had not expected to lose so
much time. Now I nmist go."
VI.
The fourth day was the last of a fast, and Elis^y said
to himself :
" I will break fast with them. I will buy sometliing
for them for the holidays, and in the evening I must
leave."
Elis^y went once more to the village and bought milk,
white flour, and lard. He and the old woman cooked and
baked a lot of things, and in the morning Elis^y wxnt to
mass and came back and broke fast with the people. On
that day the woman got up and began to move about.
The man shaved himself, put on a clean shirt, — the old
woman had washed it for him, — and went to a rich
peasant to ask a favour of him. His mowing and field
were mortgaged to the rich man, so he went to ask him
to let him have the mowing and the field until the new
crop. He came back gloomy in the evening, and burst
out weeping. The rich man would not show him the
favour ; he had asked him to bring the money.
Ehs^y fell to musing.
" How are they going to live now ? People will be
going out to mow, but they cannot go, for it is all mort-
gaged. The rye wiU ripen and people will begin to
harvest it (and there is such a fine stand of it !), but they
have nothing to look forward to, — their desyatina is sold
to the rich peasant. If I go away, they will fall back
into poverty."
And Elis^y was in doubt, and did not go away in the
evening, but put it off until morning. He went into the
yard to sleep. He said his prayers and lay down, but
could not fall asleep,
422
THE TWO OLD MEN 423
" I ought to go, — as it is I have spent much time and
money ; but I am sorry for the people. You can't help
everybody. I meant to bring them some water and give
each a slice of bread, but see how far I have gone. Now
I shall have to buy out his mowing and field. And if I
buy out the field, I might as well buy a cow for the
children, and a horse for the man to haul his sheaves
with. Brother Elis^y Kuzmich, you are in for it ! You
have let yourself loose, and now you will not straighten
out things."
EUs^y got up, took the caftan from under his head, and
unrolled it ; he drew out his snuff-horn and took a pinch,
thinking that he would clear his thoughts, but no, — he
tlrought and thought and could not come to any conclusion.
He ought to get up and go, but he was sorry for the
people. He did not know what to do. He rolled the caf-
tan up under his head and lay down to sleep. He lay there
for a long time, and the cocks crowed, and then only
did he fall asleep. Suddenly he felt as though some one
had wakened him. He saw himself all dressed, with his
wallet and staff, and he had to pass through a gate, but it
was just open enough to let a man squeeze through. He
went to the gate and his wallet caught on one side, and
as he was about to free it, one of his leg-rags got caught
on the other side and came open. He tried to free the leg-
rag, but it was not caught in the wicker fence : it was the
girl who was holding on to it, and crying, " Grandfather,
grandfather, bread ! " He looked at his foot, and there
was the little boy holding on to it, and the old woman
and the man were looking out of the window. Elis^y
awoke, and he began to speak to himself in an audible voice :
" I will buy out the field and the mowing to-morrow,
and will buy a horse, and flour to last until harvest-time,
and a cow for the children. For how would it be to go
beyond the sea to seek Christ and lose him within me ?
I must get the people started."
424 THE TWO OLD MEN
And Elis^y fell asleep until morning. He awoke early.
He went to the rich merchant, bought out the rye and
gave him money for the mowing. He bought a scythe, —
for that had been sold, too, — and brought it home. He
sent the man out to mow, and himself went to see the
peasants : he found a horse and a cart for sale at the inn-
keeper's. He bargained with him for it, and bought it ;
then he bought a bag of flour, which he put in the cart,
and went out to buy a cow. As he was walking, he came
across two Little-Russian women, and they were talking
to one another. Though they were talking in their dia-
lect, he could make out what they were saying about
him :
" You see, at first they did not recognize him ; they
thought that he was just a simple kind of a man. They
say, he went in to get a drink, and he has just stopped
there. What a lot of things he has bought them ! I my-
self saw him buy a horse and cart to-day of the innkeeper.
Evidently there are such people in the world. I must go
and take a look at him."
When Elis^y heard that, he understood that they were
praising him, and so he did not go to buy the cow. He
returned to the innkeeper and gave him the money for the
horse. He hitched it up and drove with the flour to the
house. When he drove up to the gate, he stopped and
climbed down from the cart. When the people of the
house saw the horse, they were surprised. They thought
that he had bought the horse for them, but did not dare
say so. The master came out to open the gates.
" Grandfather, where did you get that horse ? "
" I bought it," he said. " I got it cheap. Mow some
grass and put it in the cart, so that the horse may have
some for the night. And take off the bag ! "
The master unhitched tlie horse, carried the bag to the
granary, mowed a lot of grass, and put it into the cart.
They lay down to sleep. Elisey slept in the street, and
THE TWO OLD MEN 425
thither he had carried his wallet in the evening. All
the people fell asleep. Elis^y got up, tied his wallet, put
on his shoes and his caftan, and started down the road to
catch up with Efim.
VII.
Elis^y had walked about five versts, when day began
to break. He sat down under a tree, untied his wallet,
and began to count his money. He found that he had
seventeen roubles twenty kopeks left.
" Well," he thought, " with this sum I cannot travel
beyond the sea, but if I beg in Christ's name, I shall only
increase my sin. Friend Efim will reach the place by
himself, and will put up a candle for me. But I shall
evidently never fulfil my vow. The master is merciful,
and he will forgive me."
Elis^y got up, slung his wallet over his shoulders, and
turned back. He made a circle around the village so that
people might not see him. And soon he reached home.
On his way out he had found it hard : it was hard keep-
ing up with Efim ; but on his way home God made it
easy for him, for he did not know what weariness was.
Walking was just play to him, and he swayed his staff,
and made as much as seventy versts a day.
Elis^y came back home. The harvest was all in. The
home folk were glad to see the old man. They asked all
about him, why he had left his companion and why he
had not gone to Jerusalem, but had returned home.
Elis^y did not tell them anything.
" God did not grant me that I should," he said. " I
spent my money on the way, and got separated from my
companion. And so I did not go. Forgive me for Christ's
sake."
He gave the old woman what money he had left. He
asked all about the home matters : everything was right ;
426
THE TWO OLD MEN 427
everything had been attended to and nothing missed, and
all were living in peace and agreement.
Efim's people heard that very day that Elis^y had come
back, and so they came to inquire about their old man.
And Elis^y told them the same story.
" You see," he said, " the old man started to walk
briskly, and three days before St. Peter's day we lost each
other. I wanted to catch up with him, but it happened
that I spent all my money and could not go on, so I
returned home."
The people marvelled how it was that such a clever
man had acted so foolishly as to start and not reach the
place and merely spend his money. They wondered
awhile, and forgot about it. Elis^y, too, forgot about it.
He began to work about the house : he got the wood
ready for the winter with his son, threshed the grain
with the women, thatched the sheds, gathered in the
bees, and gave ten hives with the young brood to his
neighbour. When he got all the work done, he sent
his son out to earn money, and himself sat down in
the winter to plait bast shoes and hollow out blocks for
the hives.
VIII.
All that day that Elisey passed with the sick people,
Efim waited for his companion. He walked but a short
distance and sat down. He waited and waited, and fell
asleep ; when he awoke, he sat awliile, — but his com-
panion did not turn up. He kept a sharp lookout for him,
but the sun was going down behind a tree, and still Elisey
was not there.
" I wonder whether he has not passed by me," he
thought. " Maybe somebody drove him past, and he did
not see me while I was asleep. But how could he help
seeing me ? In the steppe you can see a long distance
off. If I go back, he may be marching on, and we shall
only get farther separated from each other. I will walk
on, — we shall meet at the resting-place for the night."
When he came to a village, he asked the village officer
to look out for an old man and bring him to the house
where he stayed. Elist^y did not come there for the
night. Efim marched on, and asked everybody whether
they had seen a bald-headed old man. No one had seen
him. Efim was surprised and walked on.
"We shall meet somewhere in Odessa," he thought,
" or on the boat," and then he stopped thinking about it.
On the road he fell in with a pilgrim. The pilgrim,
in calotte, cassock, and long hair, had been to Mount
Athos, and was now going for the second time to Jerusalem.
They met at a hostelry, and they had a chat and started
off together.
They reached Odessa without any accident. Tliey
waited for three days for a ship There were many pil-
428
THE TWO OLD MEN 429
grims there, and they had come together from all direc-
tions. Again Efim asked about Elis^y, but nobody had
seen him.
Efim provided himself with a passport, — that cost five
roubles. He had forty roubles left for his round trip,
and he bought bread aud herring for the voyage. The
ship was loaded, then the pilgrims were admitted, and
Tarasych sat down beside the pilgrim he had met. The
anchors were weighed, they pushed off from the shore,
and the ship sailed across th« sea.
During the day they had good saiHng ; in the evening
a wind arose, rain fell, and the ship began to rock and to
be washed by the waves. The people grew excited ; the
women began to shriek, and such men as were weak ran
up and down the ship, trying to find a safe place. Efim,
too, was frightened, but he did not show it: where he
had sat down on the floor on boarding the ship by the side
of Tambov peasants, he sat through the night and the
following day ; all of them held on to their wallets and
did not speak. On the third day it grew calmer. On the
fifth day they landed at Constantinople.
Some of the pilgrims went ashore there, to visit the
Cathedral of St. Sophia, which now the Turks hold ;
Tarasych did not go, but remained on board the ship.
All he did was to buy some white bread. They remained
there a day, and then again sailed through the sea. They
stopped at Smyrna town, and at another city by the came
of Alexandria, and safely reached the city of Jaffa. In
Jaffa all pilgrims go ashore : from there it is seventy versts
on foot to Jerusalem. At the landing the people had
quite a scare : the ship was high, and the people were let
down into boats below ; but the boats were rocking all
the time, and two people were let down past the boat and
got a ducking, but otherwise all went safely.
When all were ashore, they went on afoot ; on the
third day they reached Jerusalem at dinner-time. They
430 THE TWO OLD MEN
stopped in a suburb, in a Eussian hostelry ; there they
had their passports stamped and ate their dinner, and then
they followed a pilgrim to the holy places. It was too
early yet to be admitted to the Sepulchre of the Lord, so
they went to the Monastery of the Patriarch, There
all the worshipper.'^ were gathered, and the female sex was
put apart from the male. They were all ordered to take
off their shoes and sit in a circle. A monk came out with
a towel, and began to wash everybody's feet. He would
wash, and rub them clean, and kiss them, and thus he
went around the whole circle. He washed Efim's feet
and kissed them. They celebrated vigils and matins, and
placed a candle, and served a mass for the parents. There
they were fed, and received wine to drink.
On the following morning they went to the cell of Mary
of Egypt, where she took refuge. There they placed
candles, and a mass was celebrated. From there they
went to Abraham's Monastery. They saw the Sebak
garden, the place where Abraham wanted to sacrifice his
son to God. Then they went to the place where Christ
appeared to Mary Magdalene, and to the Church of Jacob,
the brother of the Lord. The pilgrim showed them all the
places, and in every place he told how much money
they ought to give. At dinner they returned to the
hostelry. They ate, and were just getting ready to he
down to sleep, when the pilgrim, who was rummaging
through his clothes, began to sigh.
" They have pulled out my pocketbook with money in
it," he said. "I had twenty-three roubles, — two ten-
rouble bills, and three in change."
The pilgrim felt badly about it, but nothing could be
done, and all went to sleep.
IX.
As Efim went to sleep, a temptation came over him,
" They have not taken the pilgrim's money," he
thought, " he did not have any. Nowhere did he offer
anything. He told me to give, but he himself did not
offer any. He took a rouble from me."
As Efim was thinking so, he began to rebuke himself :
" How dare I judge the man, and commit a sin. I will
not sin." The moment he forgot himself, he again thought
that the pilgrim had a sharp eye on money, and that it
was unlikely that they had taken the money from him.
" He never had any money," he thought. " It's only an
excuse."
They got up before evening and went to an early mass
at the Church of the Resurrection, — to the Sepulchre of
the Lord. The pilgriu did not leave Efim's side, but
walked with him all the time.
They came to the church. There was there collected
a large crowd of worshippers, Greeks, and Armenians, and
Turks, and Syrians. Efim came with the people to the
Holy Gate. A monk led them. He took them past
the Turkish guard to the place where the Saviour was
taken from the cross and anointed, and where candles
were burning in nine large candlesticks. He showed and
explained everything to them. Efim placed a candle
there. Then the monks led Efim to the right over steps
to Golgotha, where the cross stood ; there Efim prayed ;
then Efim was shown the cleft where the earth was rent
to the lowermost regions ; then he was shown the place
where Christ's hands and feet had been nailed to the
431
432 THE TWO OLD MEN
cross, and then he was shown Adam's grave, where Christ's
blood dropped on his bones. Then they came to the rock
on wliich Christ sat when they put the wreath of thorns
OD his head ; then to the post to which Christ was tied
when he was beaten. Then Efim saw the stone with the
two holes, for Christ's feet. They wanted to show him
other things, but the people hastened away : all hurried
to the grotto of the Lord's Sepulchre. Some foreign mass
was just ended, and the Russian began. Efim followed
the people to the grotto.
He wanted to get away from the pilgrim, for in thought
he still sinned against him, but the pilgrim stuck to him,
and went with him to mass at the Sepulchre of the Lord.
They wanted to stand close to it, but were too late. There
was such a crowd there that it was not possible to move
forward or back. Efim stood there and looked straight
ahead and prayed, but every once in awhile he felt his
purse, to see whether it was in his pocket. His thoughts
were divided ; now he thought that the pilgrim had de-
ceived him ; and then lie thought, if he had not deceived
him, and the pocketbook had really been stolen, the same
might happen to him.
Efim stood there and prayed and looked ahead into the
chapel where the Sepulchre itself was, and where over
the Sepulchre thirty-six lamps were burning. Efim looked
over the heads to see the marvellous thing : under the
very lamps, where the blessed fire was burning, in front
of all, he saw an old man in a coarse caftan, with a bald
spot shining on his whole head, and he looked very much
like Elis^y Bodrov.
" He resembles EHs^y," he thought. " But how can it
be he ? He could not have got here before me. The
previous ship started a week ahead of us. He could not
have been on that ship. On our ship he was not, for I
saw all the pilgrims."
Just as Efim was thinking this, the old man began to
pray, and made three bows : once in front of him, to God,
and twice to either side, to all the Orthodox people. And
as the old man turned his head to the right, Efim recognized
him. Sure enough, it was Bodrov : it was his blackish,
curly beard, and the gray streak on his cheeks, and his
brows, his eyes, his nose, and full face, — all his. Cer-
tainly it was he, Elis^y Bodrov.
Efim was glad that he had found his companion, and
he marvelled how Elis^y could have got there ahead of him.
" How in the world did Bodrov get to that place in
front ? " he thought. " No doubt he met a man who knew
how to get him there. When all go out, I will hunt him
up, and I will drop the pilgrim in the colette, and will
walk with him. Maybe he will take me to the frort
place."
433
434 THE TWO OLD MEN
Efim kept an eye on Elis^y, so as not to lose him.
When the masses were over, the people began to stir. As
they went up to kiss the Sepulchre, they crowded and
pushed Efim to one side. He was frightened lest his
purse should be stolen. He put his hand to his purse
and tried to make his way out into the open. When he
got out, he walked and walked, trying to find Elis^y, both
on the outside and in the church. In the church he saw
many people in the cells : some ate, and drank wine, and
slept there, and read their prayers. But Elis^y was not
to be found. Efim returned to the hostelry, but he did
not find his companion there either. On that evening
the pilgrim, too, did not come back. He was gone, and
had not returned the rouble to Efim. So Efim was left
alone.
On the following day Efim went again to the Sepulchre
of the Lord with a Tambov peasant, with whom he had
journeyed on the ship. He wanted to make his way to
the front, but he was again pushed back, and so he stood
at a column and prayed. He looked ahead of him, and
there in front, under the lamps, at the very Sepulchre of
the Lord, stood Elisdy. He had extended his hands, like a
priest at the altar, and his bald spot shone over his whole
head.
" Now," thought Efim, " I will not miss him."
He made his way to the front, but Elis^y was not
there. Evidently he had left. On the third day he again
went to the Sepulchre of the Lord, and there he saw
Elis^y standing in the holiest place, in sight of everybody,
and his hands were stretched out, and he looked up, as
though he saw something above him. And his bald spot
shone over his whole head.
" Now," thought Efim, " I will certainly not miss him ;
I will go and stand at the entrance, and then he cannot
escape me."
Efim went out and stood there for a long time. He
THE TWO OLD MEN 435
stood until after noon : all the people had passed out, but
Elis^y was not among them.
Efim passed six weeks in Jerusalem, and visited all the
places, Bethlehem, and Bethany, and the Jordan, and had
a stamp put on a new shirt at the Lord's Sepulchre, to be
buried in it, and filled a bottle of Jordan water, and got
some earth, and candles with blessed fire, and in eight
places inscribed names for the mass of the dead. He
spent all his money and had just enough left to get home
on, and so he started for home. He reached Jaffa, boarded
a ship, landed at Odessa, and walked toward his home.
XI.
EfIm walked by himself the same way he had come
out. As he was getting close to his village, he began to
worry again about how things were going at his house
without him. In a year, he thought, much water runs
by. It takes a lifetime to get together a home, but it
does not take long to ruin it. He wondered how his son
had done without him, how the spring had opened, how
the cattle had wintered, and whether the hut was well
built. Efim reached the spot where the year before he
had parted from Elis^y. It was not possible to recognize
the people. Where the year before they had suffered
want, now there was plenty. Everything grew well in the
field. The people picked up again and forgot their former
misery. In the evening Efim reached the very village
where the year before Elis^y had fallen behind. He had
just entered the village, when a Httle girl in a white shirt
came running out of a hut.
" Grandfather, grandfather ! Come to our house ! "
Efim wanted to go on, but the girl would not let him.
She took hold of his coat and laughed and pulled him to
the hut. A woman with a boy came out on the porch,
and she, too, beckoned to him :
" Come in, grandfather, and eat supper with us and stay
overnight ! "
Efim stepped in.
" I can, at least, ask about Elis^y," he thought. " This
is the very hut into which he went to get a drink."
Efim went inside. The woman took off his wallet, gave
him water to wash himself, and seated him at the table.
436
THE TWO OLD MEN 437
She fetched milk, cheese, cakes, and porridge, and placed
it aU on the table. Taiasych thanked her and praised
the people for being hospitable to pilgrims. The woman
shook her head.
" We cannot help receiving pilgrims," she said. " We
received life from a pilgrim. We lived forgetting God,
and God punished us in such a way that all of us were
waiting for death. Last summer we came to such a point
that we were all lying down sick and starved. We should
certainly have died, but God sent us an old man like you.
He stepped in during the daytime to get a drink ; when
he saw us, he took pity on us and remained at our house.
He gave us to eat and to drink, and put us on our feet
again. He cleared our laud from debt, and bought a
horse and cart and left it with us."
The old woman entered the room, and interrupted her
speech :
" We do not know," she said, " whether he was a man
or an angel of the Lord. He was good to us all, and
pitied us, and then went away without giving his name,
so that we do not know for whom to pray to God. I see
it as though it happened just now : I was lying down and
waiting for death to come ; I looked up and saw a man
come in, — just a simple, bald-headed man, — and ask for
a drink. I, sinful woman, thought that he was a tramp,
but see what he did ! When he saw us he put down his
wallet, right in this spot, and opened it."
The girl broke in.
" No, granny," she said, " first he put his wallet in the
middle of the room, and only later did he put it on the
bench."
And they began to dispute and to recall his words and
deeds : where he had sat down, and where he had
slept, and what he had done, and what he had said to
each.
Toward evening the master of the house came home on
438 THE TWO OLD MEN
a horse, and he, too, began to tell about Elis^y, and how
he had stayed at their house.
" If he had not come to us," he said, " we should all of
us have died in sin. We were dying in despair, and we
murmured against God and men. But he put us on our
feet, and through him we found out God, and began to
believe in good people. May Christ save him ! Before
that we lived hke beasts, and he has made men of us."
They gave Efim to eat and to drink, and gave him a
place to sleep, and themselves went to bed.
As Efim lay down, he could not sleep, and Elis^y did
not leave his mind, but he thought of how he had seen
him three times in Jerusalem in the foremost place.
" So this is the way he got ahead of me," he thought.
" My work may be accepted or not, but his the Lord has
accepted."
In the morning Efim bade the people good-bye : they
filled his wallet with cakes and went to work, while Efim
started out on the road.
XII.
Efim was away precisely a year. In the spring he re-
turned home.
He reached his house in the evening. His son was not
at home, — he was in the dram-shop. He returned in-
toxicated, and Efim began to ask him about the house.
He saw by everything that the lad had got into bad ways
without him. He had spent all the money, and the busi-
ness he had neglected. His father scolded him, and he
answered his father with rude words.
" You ought to have come back yourself," he said.
" Instead, you went away and took all the money with
you, and now you make me responsible."
The old man became angry and beat his son.
The next morning Efim Tarasych went to the elder to
talk to him about his son. As he passed Elis^y's farm,
Elis^y's wife was standing on the porch and greeting him :
" Welcome, friend ! " she said. " Did you, dear man,
have a successful journey ? "
Efim Tarasych stopped.
" Thank God," he said, " I have been at Jerusalem, but
I lost your husband on the way. I hear that he is back."
And the old woman started to talk to him, for she was
fond of babbling.
" He is back, my dear ; he has been back for quite
awhile. He returned soon after Assumption day. We
were so glad to see him back. It was lonely without him.
Not that we mean his work, — for he is getting old. But
he is the head, and it is jollier for us. How happy our
lad was ! Without him, he said, it was as without light
439
440 THE TWO OLD MEN
for the eyes. It was lonely without him, my dear. We
love him so much ! "
" Well, is he at home now ? "
"At home he is, neighbour, in the apiary, brushing
in the swarms. He says it was a fine swarming season.
The old man does not remember when there has been such
a lot of bees. God gives us not according to our sins, he
says. Come in, dear one! He will be so glad to see
you."
Efim walked through the vestibule and through the
yard to the apiary, to see Elis^y. When he came inside
the apiary, he saw Elis^y standing without a net, without
gloves, in a gray caftan, under a birch-tree, extending his
arms and looking up, and his bald spot shone over his
whole head, just as he had stood in Jerusalem at the
Lord's Sepulchre, and above him, through the birch-tree,
the sun glowed, and above his head the golden bees
circled in the form of a wreath, and did not sting him.
Efim stopped.
Elis^y's wife called out to her husband :
" Your friend is here."
Ehs^y looked around. He was happy, and walked over
toward his friend, softly brushing the bees out of his
beard.
" Welcome, friend, welcome, dear man ! Did you have
a successful journey ? "
" My feet took me there, and 1 have brought you some
water from the river Jordan. Come and get it ! But
whether the Lord has received my work — "
" Thank God ! Clirist save you ! "
Efim was silent.
"I was there with my feet, but in spirit you were
there, or somebody else — "
" It is God's work, my friend, God's work."
" On my way home I stopped at the hut where T lost
you."
THE TWO OLD MEN 441
Elis6y was frightened, and he hastened to say :
" It is God's work, my friend, God's work. Well, won't
you step in ? I will bring some honey."
And Elis^y changed the subject, and began to speak of
home matters.
Efim heaved a sigh. He did not mention the people of
the hut to EHs^y, nor what he had seen in Jerusalem.
And he understood that God has enjoined that each man
shall before his death carry out his vow — with love
and good deeds.
WHERE LOVE IS, THERE
GOD IS ALSO
1885
WHERE LOVE IS, THERE
GOD IS ALSO
Shoemaker Mart5^n Avdy^ich lived in the city. He
lived in a basement, in a room with one window. The
window looked out on the street. Through it the people
could be seen as they passed by : though only the feet
were visible, Martyn Avdy^ich could tell the men by
their boots. He had lived for a long time in one place
and had many acquaintances. It was a rare pair of boots
in the neighbourhood that had not gone once or twice
through his hands. Some he had resoled ; on others he
had put patches, or fixed the seams, or even put on new
uppers. Frequently he saw his own work through the
window. He had much to do, for he did honest work,
put in strong material, took no more than was fair, and
kept his word. If he could get a piece of work done by a
certain time he undertook to do it, and if not, he would
not cheat, but said so in advance. Everybody knew
Avdy^ich, and his work never stopped.
Avdy^ich had always been a good man, but in his old
age he thought more of his soul and came near unto God.
Even while Martyn had been living with a master, his
wife had died, and he had been left with a boy three
years of age. Their children did not live long. All the
elder children had died before. At first Mart5^n had
intended sending his son to his sister in a village, but
446
446 WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO
then he" felt sorry for the little lad, and thought : " It will
be hard for my Kapitoshka to grow up in somebody else's
family, and so I will keep him."
Avdy^ich left his master, and took up quarters with
his son. But God did not grant Avdy^ich any luck
with his children. No sooner had the boy grown up so
as to be a help to his father and a joy to him, than a
disease fell upon him and he lay down and had a fever
for a week and died. Martin buried his son, and was in
despair. He despaired so much that he began to murmur
against God. He was so downhearted that more than
once he asked God to let him die, and rebuked God for
having taken his beloved only son, and not him. He even
stopped going to church.
One day an old man, a countryman of Avdy^ich's,
returning from Troitsa, — he had been a pilgrim for eight
years, — came to see him. Avdy^ich talked with him
and began to complam of his sorrow :
" I have even no desire to live any longer, godly man.
If I could only die. That is all I am praying God for.
I am a man without any hope."
And the old man said to him :
" You do not say well, Martyn. We cannot judge
God's works. Not by our reason, but by God's judgment
do we live. God has determined that your son should
die, and you live. Evidently it is better so. The reason
you are in despair is that you want to live for your own
enjoyment."
" What else shall we live for ? " asked Martin.
And the old man said :
" We must live for God, Martyn. He gives us life,
and for Him must we hve. When you shall live for Him
and shall not worry about anything, life will be lighter
for you."
Mart^^n was silent, and he said :
" How shall we live for God ? "
WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO 447
And the old man said :
" Christ has shown us how to live for God. Do you
know how to read ? If so, buy yourself a Gospel and
read it, and you will learn from it how to live for God.
It tells all about it."
These words fell deep into Avdy^ich's heart. And he
went that very day and bought himself a New Testament
in large letters, and began to read.
Avdy^ich had meant to read it on holidays only, but
when he began to read it, his heart was so rejoiced that
he read it every day. Many a time he buried himself so
much in reading that all the kerosene would be spent in
the lamp, but he could not tear himself away from the
book. And Avdy^ich read in it every evening, and the
more he read, the clearer it became to him what God
wanted of him, and how he should live for God ; and his
heart grew lighter and lighter. Formerly, when he lay
down to sleep, he used to groan and sob and think of his
Kapitoshka, but now he only muttered :
" Glory be to Thee, glory to Thee, O Lord ! Thy will
be done ! "
Since then Avdy^ich's life had been changed. For-
merly, he used on a holiday to frequent the tavern, to
drink tea, and would not decline a drink of vodka. He
would drink a glass with an acquaintance and, though he
would not be drunk, he would come out of the tavern in
a happier mood, and then he would speak foolish things,
and would scold, or slander a man. Now all that passed
away from him. His life came to be calm and happy.
In the morning he sat down to work, and when he got
through, he took the lamp from the hook, put it down on
the table, fetched the book from the shelf, opened it, and
began to read it. And the more he read, the better he
understood it, and his mind was clearer and his heart
lighter.
One evening Mart^^n read late into the night. He had
448 WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO
before him the Gospel of St. Luke. He read the sixth
chapter and the verses : " And unto him that smiteth
thee on the one cheek offer also the other ; and him that
taketh away thy cloke forbid not to take thy coat
also. Give to every man that asketh of thee ; and of him
that taketh away thy goods ask them not again. And as
ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to them
likewise."
And he read also the other verses, where the Lord
says : " And why call ye me, Lord, Lord, and do not the
things which I say ? Whosoever cometh to me, and
heareth my sayings, and doeth them, I will shew you to
whom he is like : he is like a man which built an house,
and digged deep, and laid the foundation on a rock : and
when the flood arose, the stream beat vehemently upon
that house, and could not shake it : for it was founded
upon a rock. But he that heareth, and doeth not, is like
a man that without a foundation built an house upon the
earth ; against which the stream did beat vehemently,
and immediately it fell ; and the ruin of that house was
great."
When Avdy^ich read these words, there was joy in his
heart. He took off his glasses, put them on the book,
leaned his arms on the table, and fell to musing. And
he began to apply these words to his life, and he
thought :
" Is my house on a rock, or on the sand ? It is well
if it is founded on a rock : it is so easy to sit alone, — it
seems to me that I am doing everything which God has
commanded ; but if I dissipate, I shall sin again. I will
just proceed as at present. It is so nice ! Help me,
God ! "
This he thought, and he wanted to go to sleep, but he
was loath to tear himself away from the book. And
he began to read the seventh chapter. He read about the
centurion, about the widow's son, about the answer to
WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO 449
John's disciples, and he reached the passage where the
rich Pharisee invited the Lord to be his guest, and where
the sinning woman anointed His feet and washed them
with her tears, and he justified her. And he reached
the 44th verse, and read : " And he turned to the
woman, and said unto Simon, Seest thou this woman ?
I entered into thine house, thou gavest me no water for
my feet : but she hath washed my feet with tears, and
wiped them with the hairs of her head. Thou gavest me
no kiss : but this woman since the time I came in hath
not ceased to kiss my feet. My head with oil thou didst
not anoint : but this woman hath anointed my feet with
ointment."
When he had read these verses, he thought :
" He gave no water for His feet ; he gave no kiss ; he
did not anoint His head wdth oil."
And again Avdy^ich took off his glasses and placed
them on the book, and fell to musing.
" Evidently he was just such a Pharisee as I am. He,
no doubt, thought only of himself : how to drink tea, and
be warm, and in comfort, but he did not think of the
guest. About himself he thought, but no care did he
have for the guest. And who was the guest ? — The Lord
Himself. Would I have done so, if He had come to
me?"
And Avdy^ich leaned his head on both his arms and
did not notice how he fell asleep.
" Martyn ! " suddenly something seemed to breathe
over his very ear.
Martyn shuddered in his sleep : " Who is that ? "
He turned around and looked at the door, but there
was nobody there. He bent down again, to go to sleep.
Suddenly he heard distinctly :
" Martyn, oh, Martyn, remember, to-morrow I will come
to the street."
Mart^^n awoke, rose from his chair, and began to rub
450 WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO
his eyes. He did not know himself whether he had heard
these words in his dream or in waking. He put out the
light and went to sleep.
Avdy^ich got up in the morning hefore daybreak, said
his prayers, made a fire, put the beet soup and porridge on
the stove, started the samovar, tied on his apron, and sat
down at the window to work. And, as he sat there at
work, he kept thinking of what had happened the night
before. His thoughts were divided : now he thought that
it had only seemed so to him, and now again he thought
he had actually heard the voice.
" Well," he thought, " such things happen."
Martyn was sitting at the window and not so much
working as looking out into the street, and if somebody
passed in unfamiliar boots, he bent over to look out of the
window, in order to see not merely the boots, but also
the face. A janitor passed by in new felt boots ; then a
water-carrier went past ; then an old soldier of the
days of Nicholas, in patched old felt boots, holding a
shovel in his hands, came in a Hue with the window.
Avdy^ich recognized him by his felt boots. The old
man's name was Stepanych, and he was living with a
neighbouring merchant for charity's sake. It was his duty
to help the janitor. Stepanych began to clear away the
snow opposite Avdy^ich's window. Avdy^ich cast a
glance at him and went back to his work.
" Evidently I am losing my senses in my old age,"
Avdy^ich laughed to himself. " Stepanych is clearing
away the snow, and I thought that Christ was coming to
see me. I, old fool, am losing my senses." But before
he had made a dozen stitches, something drew him again
toward the window. He looked out, and there he saw
Stepanych leaning his shovel against the wall and either
warming or resting himself.
He was an old, broken-down man, and evidently shov-
elling snow was above his strength. Avdy^ich thought:
WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO 451
' I ought to give him some tea ; fortunately the samovar
is just boihng." He stuck the awl into the wood, got up,
placed the samovar on the table, put some tea in the tea-
pot, and tapped with his finger at the window. Stepanych
turned around and walked over to the window. Avdy^ich
beckoned to him and went to open the door.
" Come in and get warmed up ! " he said. " I suppose
you are feeling cold."
" Christ save you ! I have a breaking in my bones,"
said Stepanych.
He came in, shook off the snow and wiped his boots so
as not to track the floor, but he was tottering all the time.
" Don't take the trouble to rub your boots. I will clean
up, — that is my business. Come and sit down ! " said
Avdy^ich. " Here, drink a glass of tea 1 "
Avdy^ich filled two glasses and moved one of them up
to his guest, and himself poured his glass into the saucer
and began to blow at it.
Stepanych drank his glass ; then he turned it upside
down, put the lump of sugar on top of it, and began to
express his thanks ; but it was evident that he wanted
another glass,
" Have some more," said Avdy^ich ; and he poured out
a glass for his guest and one for himself. Avdy^ich dran*i
liis tea, but something kept drawing his attention to the
window.
" Are you waiting for anybody ? " asked the guest.
" Am I waiting for anybody ? It is really a shame to
say for whom I am waiting : no, I am not exactly waiting,
but a certain word has fallen deep into my heart : I do
not know myself whether it is a vision, or what. You see,
my friend, I read the Gospel yesterday about Father Christ
and how He suffered and walked the earth. I suppose
you have heard of it ? "
" Yes, I have," replied Stepanych, " but we are ignorant
people, — we do not know how to read."
462 WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO
" Well, so I read about how He walked the earth. I
read, you know, about how He came to the Pharisee, and
the Pharisee did not give Him a good reception. Well,
my friend, as I was reading last night about that very
thing, I wondered how he could have failed to honour
Father Christ. If He should have happened to come to me,
for example, I should have done everything to receive
Him. But he did not receive Him well. As I was think-
ing of it, I fell asleep. And as I dozed off I heard some
one calling me by name : I got up and it was as though
somebody were whispering to me : ' Wait,' he said : ' I will
come to-morrow.' This he repeated twice. Would you
believe it, — it has been running through my head, — I
blame myself for it, — and I am, as it were, waiting for
Father Christ."
Stepanych shook his head and said nothing. He fin-
ished his glass and put it sidewise, but Avdy^ich took it
again and filled it with tea.
" Drink, and may it do you good ! I suppose when He,
the Father, walked the earth, He did not neglect anybody,
and kept the company mostly of simple folk. He visited
mostly simple folk, and chose His disciples mostly from
people of our class, labouring men, like ourselves the sin-
ners. He who raises himself up, He said, shall be hum-
bled, and he who humbles himself shall be raised. You
call me Lord, He said, but I will wash your feet. He who
wants to be the first, He said, let him be everybody's serv-
ant ; because. He said, blessed are the poor, the meek
the humble, and the merciful."
Stepanych forgot his tea. He was an old man and
easily moved to tears. He sat there and listened,
and tears flowed down his cheeks.
" Take another glass ! " said Avdy^ich.
But Stepanych made the sign of the cross, thanked him
for the tea, pushed the glass away from him, and
got up.
WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO 453
" Thank you, Martin Avdy^ich," he said. " You were
hospitable to me, and have given food to my body and my
soul."
" You are welcome. Come in again, — I shall be glad
to see you," said Avdy^ich.
Stepanych went away. Martyn poured out the last tea,
finished another glass, put away the dishes, and again sat
down at the window to work, — to tap a boot. And as
he worked, he kept looking out of the window, — waiting
for Christ and thinking of Him and His works. And all
kinds of Christ's speeches ran through his head.
There passed by two soldiers, one in Crown boots, the
other in boots of his own ; then the proprietor of a neigh-
bouring house came by in clean galoshes, and then a
baker with a basket. All of these went past the window,
and then a woman in woollen stockings and peasant shoes
came in line with the window. She went by the window
and stopped near a wall. Avdy^ich looked at her through
the window, and saw that she was a strange, poorly
dressed woman, with a child : she had stopped with her
back to the wind and was trying to wrap the child,
though she did not have anything to wrap it in. The
woman's clothes were for the summer, and scanty at that.
Avdy^ich could hear the cliild cry in the street, and her
vain attempt to quiet it. Avdy^ich got up and went out
of his room and up to the staircase, and called out :
" Clever woman ! Clever woman ! "
The woman heard him and turned around.
" Why are you standing there in the cold with the
child ? Come in here ! It will be easier for you to wrap
the child in a warm room. Here, this way ! "
The woman was surprised. She saw an old man in an
apron, with glasses over his nose, calling to her. She
followed him in.
They went down the stairs and entered the room, and
Martyn took the woman up to the bed.
454 WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO
" Sit down here, clever woman, nearer to the stove, and
get warm and feed the child."
" There is no milk in my breasts, — I have not had any-
thing to eat since morning," said the woman, but still she
took the child to her breast.
Avdy^ich shook his head, went to the table, fetched
some bread and a bowl, opened a door in the stove, filled
the bowl with beet soup, and took out the pot of porridge,
but it was not done yet. He put the soup on the table,
put down the bread, and took off a rag from a hook and
put it down on the table.
" Sit down, clever woman, and eat, and I will sit with
the babe, — I used to have children of my own, and so 1
know how to take care of them."
The woman made the sign of the cross, sat down at the
table, and began to eat, while Avdy^ich seated himself on
the bed with the child. He smacked his lips at it, but
could not smack well, for he had no teeth. The babe
kept crying all the time. Avdy^ich tried to frighten it
with his flager : he quickly carried his finger down toward
the babe's mouth and pulled it away again. He did not
put his finger into the child's mouth, because it was black,
— all smeared with pitch. But the child took a fancy
for his finger aud grew quiet, and then began even to
smile. Avdyeich, too, was happy. The woman was eat-
ing in the meantime and telling him who she was and
whither she was going.
" I am a soldier's wife," she said. " My husband was
driven somewhere far away eight months ago, aud I do
not know where he is. I had been working as a cook
when the baby was born ; they would not keep me with
the child. This is the third month that I have been
without a place. I have spent all I had saved. I wanted
to hire out as a wet-nurse, but they will not take me : they
say that I am too thin. I went to a merchant woman,
where our granny lives, and she promised she would take
WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO 455
me. I thought she wanted me to come at once, but she
told me she wanted me next week. She lives a distance
away. I am all worn out and have worn out the dear
child, too. Luckily our landlady pities us for the sake of
Christ, or else I do not know how we should have lived
until now."
Avdy^ich heaved a sigh, and said :
" And have you no warm clothes ? "
" Indeed, it is time now to have warm clothing, dear
man ! But yesterday I pawned my last kerchief for
twenty kopeks."
The woman went up to the bed and took her child,
but Avdy^ich got up, went to the wall, rummaged there
awhile, and brought her an old sleeveless cloak.
" Take this ! " he said. " It is an old piece, but you
may use it to wrap yourself in."
The woman looked at the cloak and at the old man,
and took the cloak, and burst out weeping. Avdy^ich
turned his face away ; he crawled under the bed, pullea
out a box, rummaged through it, and again sat down
opposite the woman.
And the woman said :
"May Christ save you, grandfather! Evidently He
sent me to your window. My child would have frozen
to death. When I went out it was warm, but now it has
turned dreadfully cold. It was He, our Father, who taught
you to look through the window and have pity on me,
sorrowful woman."
Avdy^ich smiled, and said :
" It is He who has instructed me : clever woman,
there was good reason why I looked through the
window."
Martin told the soldier woman about his dream, and
how he had heard a voice promising him that the Lord
would come to see him on that day.
"Everything is possible," said the woman. She got
456 WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO
up, threw the cloak over her, wrapped the child in it, and
began to bow to Avdy^ich and to thank him.
" Accept this, for the sake of Christ," said Avdy^ich,
giving her twenty kopeks, with which to redeem her
kerchief.
The woman made the sign of the cross, and so did
Avdy^ich, and he saw the woman out.
She went away. Avdy^ich ate some soup, put the
things away, and sat down once more to work. He was
working, but at the same time thinking of the window :
whenever it grew dark there, he looked up to see who was
passing. There went by acquaintances and strangers, and
there was nothing peculiar.
Suddenly Avdy^ich saw an old woman, a huckstress,
stop opposite the very window. She was carrying a basket
with apples. There were but few of them left, — evi-
dently she had sold all, and over her shoulder she carried
a bag with chips. No doubt, she had picked them up at
some new building, and was on her way home. The bag
was evidently pulhng hard on her shoulder ; she wanted
to shift it to her other shoulder, so she let the bag down
on the flagstones, set the apple-basket on a post, and began
to shake down the chips. While she was doing that, a
boy in a torn cap leaped out from somewhere, grasped an
apple from the basket, and wanted to skip out, but the old
woman saw him in time and turned around and grabbed
the boy by the sleeve. The boy yanked and tried to get
away, but the old woman held on to him with both her
hands, knocked down his cap, and took hold of his hair.
The boy cried, and the old woman scolded. Avdyeich did
not have time to put away the awl. He threw it on the
floor, jumped out of the room, stumbled on the staircase,
and dropped his glasses. He ran out into the street. The
old woman was pulling the boy's hair and scolding him.
She wanted to take him to a policeman ; the httle fellow
struggled and tried to deny what he had done :
WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO 457
" I did not take any, so why do you beat me ? Let me
go!"
Avdy^ich tried to separate them. He took the boy's
arm, and said :
" Let him go, granny, forgive him for Christ's sake ! "
" I will forgive him in such a way that he will not
forget until the new bath brooms are ripe. I will take
the rascal to the pohce station ! "
Avdy^ich began to beg the old woman :
" Let him go, granny, he will not do it again. Let him
go, for Christ's sake ! "
The woman let go of him. The boy wanted to run,
but Avdy^ich held on to him.
" Beg the grandmother's forgiveness," he said. " Don't
do that again, — I saw you take the apple."
The boy began to cry, and he asked her forgiveness.
" That's right. And now, take this apple ! " Avdy^ich
took an apple from the basket and gave it to the boy. " I
will pay for it, granny," he said to the old woman.
" You are spoiling these ragamuffins," said the old
woman. " He ought to be rewarded in such a way that
he should remember it for a week."
" Oh, granny, granny ! " said Avdy^ich. " That is ac-
cording to our ways, but how is that according to God's
ways ? If he is to be whipped for an apple, what ought to
be done with us for our sins ? "
The old woman grew silent.
And Avdy^ich told the old woman the parable of the
lord who forgave his servant his whole large debt, after
which the servant went and took his fellow servant who
was his debtor by the throat. The old woman listened to
him, and the boy stood and listened, too.
" God has commanded that we should forgive," said
Avdy^ich, " or else we, too, shall not be forgiven. All are
to be forgiven, but most of all an unthinking person."
The old woman shook her head and sighed.
458 WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO
" That is so," said the old woman, " but they are very
much spoiled nowadays."
"Then we old people ought to teach them," said
Avdy^ich.
" That is what I say," said the old woman. " I myself
had seven of them, — but only one daughter is left now."
And the old woman began to tell where and how she was
living with her daughter, and how many grandchildren
she had. " My strength is waning," she said, " but still I
work. I am sorry for my grandchildren, and they are such
nice children, — nobody else meets me the way they do.
Aksyiitka will not go to anybody from me. 'Granny,
granny dear, darling ! ' " And the old woman melted with
tenderness.
" Of course, he is but a child, — God be with him ! "
the old woman said about the boy.
She wanted to lift the bag on her shoulders, when the
boy jumped up to her, and said :
" Let me carry it, granny ! I am going that way."
The old woman shook her head and tlirew the bag on
the boy's shoulders. They walked together down the
street. The old woman had forgotten to ask Avdy^ich to
pay her for the apple. Avdy^ich stood awhile, looking
at them and hearing them talk as they walked aloug.
When they disappeared from sight, he returned to his
room. He found his glasses on the staircase, — they were
not broken, — and he picked up his awl and again sat
down to work. He worked for awhile ; he could not find
the holes with the bristle, when he looked up and saw the
lampman lighting the lamps.
" It is evidently time to strike a light," he thought, and
he got up and fixed the lamp and hung it on the hook,
and sat down again to work. He finished a boot : he
turned it around and looked at it, and he saw that it was
well done. He put down his tool, swept up the chppings,
put away the bristles and the remnants and the awls, took
I
WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO 459
the lamp and put it on the table, and fetched the Gospel
from the shelf. He wanted to open the book where he
had marked it the day before with a morocco clipping, but
he opened it in another place. And just as he went to
open the Gospel, he thought of his dream of the night
before. And just as he thought of it, it appeared to him
as though something were moving and stepping behind
him. He looked around, and, indeed, it looked as though
people were standing in the dark corner, but he could not
make out who they were. And a voice whispered to him :
" Martyn, oh, Martyu, have you not recognized me ?"
" Whom ? " asked Avdy^ich.
" Me," said the voice. " It is I."
And out of the dark corner came Stepanych, and he
smiled and vanished like a cloud and was no more.
" And it is I," said a voice.
And out of the dark corner came the woman with the
babe, and the woman smiled and the child laughed, and
they, too, disappeared.
" And it is I," said a voice.
And out came the old woman and the boy with the
apple, and both smiled and vanished.
And joy fell on Avdy^ich's heart, and he made the sign
of the cross, put on his glasses, and began to read the
Gospel, there where he had opened it. And at the top of
the page he read :
" I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat : I was
thirsty, and ye gave me drink : I was a stranger, and ye
took me in."
And at the bottom of the page he read :
" Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of
these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." (Matt, xxv.)
And Avdy^ich understood that his dream had not de-
ijeived him, that the Saviour had really come to him on
that day, and that he had received Him,
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THE FIEKD PEESISTS, BUT GOD EESISTS
In ancient times there lived a good master. He had
plenty of everything, and many slaves served him. And
the slaves prided themselves on their master. They said :
" There is not a better master under heaven. He feeds
us and dresses us well, and gives us work to do according
to our strength, and never offends us with a word, and
bears no grudge against any one ; he is not like other
masters who torture their slaves worse than cattle, and
punish them with cause and without cause, and never
say a good word to them. Our master wishes us good,
and does us good, and speaks good words to us. We do
not want any better life."
Thus the slaves boasted of their master. And the devil
was annoyed to see the slaves living well and in love with
their master. And the devil took possession of one of the
master's slaves, Aleb. He took possession of him and
commanded him to seduce other slaves. And when all
the slaves were resting and praising their master, Aleb
raised his voice and said :
" Brothers, in vain do you pride yourselves on the good-
ness of your master. Try to do the devil's bidding, and
he, too, will be kind to you. We serve our master well,
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464 TEXTS FOR CHAPBOOK ILLUSTRATIONS
and please him in everything. He needs only to have a
thing in mind, and we do it, — we guess his thoughts.
Why, then, should he not be good to us ? Stop doing his
bidding and do him some wrong, and he will be like
everybody else, and wiU repay evil with evil, much worse
than the worst of masters."
And the other slaves began to dispute with Aleb. They
disputed and made a wager. Aleb undertook to anger the
good master. He undertook to do so on condition that
if he did not succeed in making him angry, he should
lose his holiday garment, but if he did, each should give
him his own holiday garment, and, besides, they promised
to defend him against the master and to free him if the
master should put him in irons or throw him into prison.
They made this wager, and Aleb promised to anger the
master on the following morning.
Aleb was serving in the master's sheepfold and tended
on costly thoroughbred rams. And so, when the good
master came the next morning with his guests to the
sheepfold to show them his favourite expensive rams, the
devil's labourer winked to his companions : " Watch me
now ! I am going to anger the master." All the slaves
gathered and looked through the door and over the en-
closure, and the devil climbed a tree and looked from
there into the yard, to see how his labourer was going to
serve him. The master walked through the yard, show-
ing his guests the sheep and lambs, and he wanted to
show them his best ram.
" The other rams are nice, too, but the one with the
twisted horns is priceless, and I think more of him than
of the pupil of my eye."
The sheep and the lambs were shying from the people
in the yard, and the guests could not get a good look at
the expensive ram. The moment the ram stopped, the
labourer of the devil, as though by accident, frightened
the sheep, and they got all mixed. The guests could not
TEXTS FOK CHAPBOOK ILLUSTRATIONS 465
make out which was the expensive ram. The master got
tired of it, so he said :
"Aleb, my dear friend, take the trouble carefully to
catch the best ram with the twisted horns and to hold
him awhile."
The moment the master had said that, Aleb rushed
forward, like a lion, into the midst of the rams and
caught the priceless ram by his fleece. He got hold of
the wool, and with one hand he seized the left hind leg
and raised it and in the eyes of the master jerked it in
such a way that it snapped like a linden post. Aleb had
broken the ram's leg beneath the knee. The ram began
to bleat and fell down on his fore legs. Aleb grasped the
right leg while the left hung loose like a whip-cord. The
guests and all the slaves groaned, and the devil rejoiced,
when he saw how cleverly Aleb had done his work. The
master looked blacker than night. He frowned, lowered
his head, and did not say a word. The guests and the slaves
were silent. They waited to see what would happen.
The master was silent, then shook himself, as though
he wanted to throw something off, and raised his head
and lifted it to the sky. He looked at it for a short
time, and the wrinkles on his face disappeared, and he
smiled and lowered his eyes on Aleb. He looked at Aleb,
and smiled, and said :
" 0 Aleb, Aleb ! Your master has commanded you to
anger me. But my master is stronger than yours : you
have not angered me, but I will anger your master. You
were afraid that I would punish you, and you wanted to
be free, Aleb. Know, then, that you will receive no pun-
ishment from me, and, since you wanted to be free, I free
you in the presence of these my guests. Go in all four
directions and take your holiday garment with you ! "
And the good master went with his guests to the house.
But the devil ground his teeth and fell down from the
tree and sank through the earth.
LITTLE GIELS WISER THAN OLD PEOPLE
It was an early Easter. They had just quit using
sleighs. In the yards lay snow, and rills ran down the
village. A large puddle had run down from a manure
pile into a lane between two farms. And at this puddle
two girls, one older than the other, had met. Both of
them had been dressed by their mothers in new bodices.
The little girl had a blue bodice, and the elder a yeUow
one with a design. Both had their heads wrapped in red
kerchiefs. After mass the two girls went to the puddle,
where they showed their new garments to each other, and
began to play. They wanted to plash in the water. The
little girl started to go into the puddle with her shoes on,
but the older girl said to her :
" Don't go, Malasha, your mother will scold you. I
will take off my shoes, and you do the same."
The girls took off their shoes, raised their skirts, and
walked through the puddle toward each other. MaUsha
stepped in up to her ankles, and said :
" It is deep, Akiilka, I am afraid."
" Never mind," she replied, " it will not be any deeper.
Come straight toward me ! " They came closer to each
other. Akulka said :
" Malasha, look out, and do not splash it up, but walk
softly."
She had barely said that when Malasha plumped her
foot into the water and bespattered Akulka's bodice, and
not only her bodice, but also her nose and eyes. When
Akulka saw the spots on her bodice, she grew angry at
Malasha, and scolded her, and ran after her, and wanted
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TEXTS FOR CHAPBOOK ILLUSTRATIONS 467
to strike her. Malasha was frightened and, seeing what
trouble she had caused, jumped out of the puddle and ran
home.
Akiilka's mother passed by ; she saw her daughter's
bodice bespattered and her shirt soiled.
" Where, accursed one, did you get yourself so dirty ? "
" Malasha has purposely splashed it on me."
Akiilka's mother grasped Malasha and gave her a knock
on the nape of her neck. Malasha began to howl, and
her mother ran out of the house.
" Why do you strike my daughter ? " she began to
scold her neighbour.
One word brought back another, and the women began
to quarrel. The men, too, ran out, and a big crowd gath-
ered in the street. All were crying, and nobody could
hear his neighbour. They scolded and cursed each other ;
one man gave another man a push, and a fight had begun,
when Akiilka's grandmother came out. She stepped in
the midst of the peasants, and began to talk to them :
" What are you doing, dear ones ? Consider the holi-
day. This is a time for rejoicing. And see what sin
you are doing ! "
They paid no attention to the old woman, and almost
knocked her off her feet. She would never have stopped
them, if it had uot been for Akillka and Malasha. While
the women exchanged words, Akiilka wiped off her bodice,
and went back to the puddle in the lane. She picked up
a pebble and began to scratch the ground so as to let the
water off into the street. While she was scratching,
Malasha came up and began to help her : she picked up
a chip and widened the rill. The peasants had begun
to fight, just as the water went down the rill toward
the place where the old woman was trying to separate the
men. The girls ran, one from one side of the rill,
the other from the other side.
" Look out, Malasha, look out ! " shouted Akulka.
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Malasha wanted to say something herself, but could
not speak for laughter.
The girls were running and laughing at a chip which
was bobbing up and down the rill. They ran straight
into the crowd of the peasants. The old woman saw them
and said to the peasants :
" Shame on you before God, men ! You have started
fighting on account of these two girls, and they have long
ago forgotten it : the dear children have been playing
nicely together. They are wiser than you."
The men looked at the girls, and they felt ashamed.
Then they laughed at themselves, and scattered to their
farms.
" Except ye become as little children, ye shall not enter
into the kingdom of heaven."
THE TWO BROTHERS AND THE GOLD
In ancient times there lived not far from Jerusalem two
brothers, the elder named Athanasius, and the younger
John. They lived in a mountain, not far from the city,
and supported themselves on what people ofifered them.
The brothers passed all their days at work. They worked
not for themselves, but for the poor. Wherever were
those who were oppressed by labour, or sick people, or
orphans, or widows, thither the brothers went, and there
they worked, and received no pay. Thus the two brothers
passed the whole week away from each other, and met
only on Saturday evening in their abode. On Sunday
alone did they stay at home, and then they prayed and
talked with each other. And an angel of the Lord came
down to them and blessed them. On Monday they
separated each in his own direction. Thus they lived
for many years, and each week the angel of the Lord
came down to them and blessed them.
One Monday, when the brothers had already gone out
to work and had gone each in his direction, the elder
brother, Athanasius, was loath to part from his brother,
and he stopped and looked back. John was walking with
lowered head, in his direction, without looking back. But
suddenly John, too, stopped and, as though he had sud-
denly noticed something, gazed at something, while shield-
ing his eyes. Then he approached what he was gazing
at, suddenly jumped to one side, and, without looking
back, ran down-hill and up-hill again, away from the
place, as though a wolf were after him. Athanasius was
surprised. He went back to that spot, to see what it was
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that had so frightened his brother. He went up to it and
saw something shining in the sun. He came nearer,
and there lay a heap of gold on the ground, as though
poured out from a measure. And Athanasius was still
more surprised, both at the gold and at his brother's leap.
" Why was he frightened, and why did he run away ? "
thought Athanasius. " There is no sin in gold. The sin
is in man. With gold one may do wrong, but also some
good. How many orphans and widows may be fed, how
many naked people dressed, and the poor and sick aided
with this gold ! We now serve people, but our service is
small, though it is to the best of our strength. With this
gold, however, we can serve people better."
Thus Athanasius tihought, and he wanted to tell it all
to his brother ; but John was out of the range of hearing,
and could be seen only as a speck the size of a beetle on
another mountain.
Athanasius took off his cloak, scooped up as much gold
as he was able to carry away, threw it on his shoulder,
and carried it into the city. He came to a hostelry and
left the gold with the keeper, and went back for the rest.
When he had brought all the gold, he went to the
merchants, bought some land in the city, and stones and
timber, and hired labourers, and began to build three
houses.
Athanasius hved for three months in the city, and
built three houses there : one — an asylum for widows
and orphans, another — a hospital for the sick and the
lame, and a third — for pilgrims and for the needy. And
Athanasius found three God-fearing old men, and one of
them he placed in charge of the asylum, the second — of
the hospital, and the third — of the hostelry. And Atha-
nasius had still three thousand gold coins left. He gave
each old man one thousand coins to distribute them to the
poor.
The three houses began to fill up with people, and the
TEXTS FOE CHAPBOOK ILLUSTRATIONS 471
people began to praise Athanasius for everything he had
done. And Athanasius was glad of that and did not feel
like leaving the city. But he loved his brother and so
he bade the people farewell and, without keeping a single
coin, went back to his abode, wearing the same old gar-
ment in which he had come.
As Athanasius was approaching his mountain, he
thought :
" My brother did not judge rightly when he jumped
from the gold and ran away from it. Have I not done
better ? "
And no sooner had Athanasius thought so than he saw
the angel who used to bless him standing in the road
and looking threateningly at him. And Athanasius was
frightened and only said :
" For what, 0 Lord ? "
And the angel opened his lips, and said :
" Go hence ! You are not worthy of living with your
brother. One leap of your brother is worth all the deeds
which you have done with your gold."
And Athanasius began to speak of how many poor
people and pilgrims he had fed, and how many orphans
he had housed. And the angel said :
" The devil who placed the gold there has also taught
you these words."
Then only did his conscience trouble him, and he saw
that he had done his deeds not for God, and he wept and
began to repent.
The angel stepped out of the road and opened the path
on which his brother, John, was already standing and
waiting for him. After that Athanasius no longer sub-
mitted to the temptation of the devil who had scattered
the gold, and he understood that not with gold, but only
with words can we serve God and men.
And the brothers began to live as before.
1
ILYAS
In the Government of Ufa there hved a Bashkir, lljis.
His father had left him no wealth. His father had died
a year after he had got his son married. At that time
Ilyas had seven mares, two cows, and a score of sheep ;
but Ilyas was a good master and began to increase his
possessions ; he worked with his wife from morning until
night, got up earlier than anybody, and went to bed later,
and grew richer from year to year. Thus Ilyas passed
thirty-five years at work, and came to have a vast for-
tune.
Ilyas finally had two hundred head of horses, 150
head of cattle, and twelve hundred sheep. Men herded
Ilyas's herds and flocks, and women milked the mares
and cows, and made kumys, butter, and cheese. Ilyas
had plenty of everything, and in the district everybody
envied him his hfe. People said :
" Ilyas is a lucky fellow. He has plenty of every-
thing,— he does not need to die."
Good people made Ilyas's friendship and became his
friends. And guests came to him from a distance. He
received them all, and fed them, and gave them to drink.
No matter who came, he received kumys, and tea, and
sherbet, and mutton. If guests came to see him, a
sheep or two were killed, and if many guests arrived, he
had them kill a mare.
Ilyas had two sons and a daughter. He had got all of
them married. When Ilyas had been poor, his sons had
worked with him and had herded the horses and the
cattle and the sheep; but when they grew rich, the sons
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became spoiled, and one of them even began to drink.
One of them, the eldest, was killed in a fight, and the
other, the younger, had a proud wife, and did not obey
his father, and his father had to give him a separate
maintenance.
Ilyas gave him a house and cattle, and his own wealth
was diminished. Soon after a plague fell on Ilyas's
sheep, and many of them died. Then there was a famine
year, the hay crop was a failure, and in the winter many
head of cattle died. Then the Kirgizes drove off the best
herd of horses. And thus Ilyas's estate grew less, and he
fell lower and lower, and his strength began to wane.
When he was seventy years old, he began to sell off
his furs, rugs, saddles, and tents, and soon had to sell his
last head of cattle, so that he was left without anything.
Before he knew it, all was gone, and in his old age he
had to go with his wife to live among strangers. All
that Ilyas had left of his fortune was what garments he
had on his body, a fur coat, a cap, and his morocco slip-
pers and shoes, and his wife, Sham-shemagi, who was
now an old woman. The son to whom he had given the
property had left for a distant country, and his daughter
had died. And so there was nobody to help the old
people.
Their neighbour, Muhamedshah, took pity on them.
Muhamedshah was neither rich nor poor, and he lived an
even life, and was a good man. He remembered Ilyas's
hospitality, and so pitied him, and said to Ilyas :
" Come to live with me, Ilyas, and bring your wife with
you ! In the summer work according to your strength in
my truck-garden, and in the winter feed the cattle, and
let Sham-shemagi milk the mares and make kumys. I
wiU feed and clothe you and will let you have whatever
you may need."
Ilyas thanked his neighbour, and went to live with his
wife as Muhamedshah's labourers. At first it was hard
474 TEXTS FOR CHAPBOOK ILLUSTRATIONS
for them, but soon they got used to the work, and the
old people worked according to their strength.
It was profitable for the master to keep these people,
for they had been masters themselves and knew all the
order and were not lazy, but worked according to their
strength ; but it pained Muhamedshah to see the well-
to-do people brought down so low.
One day distant guests, match-makers, happened to call
on Muhamedshah ; and the mulla, too, came. Muham-
edshah ordered his men to catch a sheep and kill it.
Ilyas flayed the sheep and cooked it and sent it in to the
guests. They ate the mutton, drank tea, and then started
to drink kumys. The guests and the master were sitting
on down cushions on the rugs, drinking kumys out of
bowls, and talking ; but Ilyas got through with his work
and walked past the door. When Muhamedshah saw
him, he said to a guest :
" Did you see the old man who just went past the
door ? "
" I did," said the guest ; " but what is there remarkable
about him ? "
" What is remarkable is that he used to be our richest
man. Ilyas is his name ; maybe you have heard of
him ? "
" Of course I have," said the guest. " I have never
seen him, but his fame has gone far abroad."
" Now he has nothing left, and he lives with me as a
labourer, and his wife is with him, — she milks the cows."
The guest was surprised. He cHcked with his tongue,
shook his head, and said :
" Evidently fortune flies around like a wheel : one it
lifts up, another it takes down. Well, does the old man
pine ? "
" Who knows ? He lives quietly and peaceably, and
works well."
Then the guest said :
TEXTS FOR CHAPBOOK ILLUSTRATIONS 476
" May I speak with him ? I should like to ask him
about his life."
" Of course you may," said the master, and he called
out of the tent : " Babay ! " (This means " grandfather "
in the Bashkia language.) " Come in and drink some
kumys, and bring your wife with you ! "
Ilyas came in with his wife. He exchanged greetings
with the guests and with the master, said a prayer, and
knelt down at the door ; but his wife went back of a cur-
tain and sat down with the mistress.
A bowl of kumys was handed to Ilyas. Ilyas saluted
the guests and the master, made a bow, drank a little, and
put down the bowl.
" Grandfather," the guest said to him, " I suppose it
makes you feel bad to look at us and think of your former
life, considering what fortune you had and how hard your
hfe is now."
But Ilyas smiled and said :
" If I should tell you about my happiness and unhap-
piness, you would not believe me, — you had better ask
my wife. She is a woman, and what is in her heart is
on her tongue : she will tell you all the truth about this
matter."
And the guest spoke to her behind the curtain :
"Well, granny, tell us how you judge about your
former happiness and present sorrow."
And Sham-shemagi spoke from behind the curtain:
" I judge like this : My husband and I hved for fifty
years trying to find happiness, and we did not find it ; but
now it is the second year that we have nothing left and
that we live as labourers, and we have found that happi-
ness and need no other."
The guests were surprised and the master marvelled,
and he even got up to throw aside the curtain and to look
at the old woman. But the old woman was standing
with folded hands, smihng and looking at her husband,
470 TEXTS FOR CHAPBOOK ILLUSTRATIONS
and the old man was smiKng, too. The old woman ^aid
once more :
" I am telling you the truth, without any jest : for half
a century we tried to find happiness, and so long as we
were rich, we did not find it ; now nothing is left, and
we are working out, — and we have come to have such
happiness that we wish for no other."
" Wherein does your happiness lie ? "
"In this : when we were rich, my husband and I did
not have an hour's rest : we had no time to talk together,
to think of our souls, or to pray. We had so many cares !
Now guests called on us, — and there were the cares about
what to treat them to and what presents to make so that
they should not misjudge us. When the guests left, we
had to look after the labourers : they thought only of
resting and having something good to eat, but we cared
only about having our property attended to, — and so
sinned. Now we were afraid that a wolf would kill a
colt or a calf, and now that thieves might drive off a herd.
When we lay down to sleep, we could not fall asleep,
fearing lest the sheep might crush the lambs. We would
get up in the night and walk around ; no sooner would we
be quieted than we would have a new care, — how to get
fodder for the winter. And, worse than that, there was
not much agreement between my husband and me. He
would say that this had to be done so and so, and I would
say differently, and so we began to quarrel, and sin. Thus
we lived from one care to another, from one sin to another,
and saw no happy life."
" Well, and now ? "
" Now my husband and I get up, speak together peace-
ably, in agreement, for we have nothing to quarrel about,
nothing to worry about, — all the care we have is to serve
our master. We work according to our strength, and we
work willingly so that our master shall have no loss, but
profit. When we come back, dinner is ready, and supper.
TEXTS FOR CHAPBOOK ILLUSTRATIONS 477
and kumys. If it is cold, there are dung chips to make
a fire with and a fur coat to warm ourselves. For fifty
years we looked for happiness, but only now have we
found it."
The guests laughed.
And Ilyas said :
" Do not laugh, brothers ! This is not a joke, but a
matter of human life. My wife and I were foolish and
wept because we had lost our fortune, but now God has
revealed the truth to us, and we reveal this to you, not for
our amusement but for your good."
And the mulla said :
" That was a wise speech, and Ilyas has told the pre-
cise truth, — it says so, too, in Holy Writ."
And the guests stopped laughing and fell to musing
A FAIRY-TALE
About Ivan the Fool and His Two Brothers, Semen
the Warrior and Taras the Paunch, and His
Dumb Sister Malanya, and About the Old Devil
and the Three Young Devils
1885
A FAIRY-TALE
About Ivan the Fool and His Two Brothers, Sem^n
the Warrior and Taras the Paunch, and His
Dumb Sister Malanya, and About the Old Devil
and the Three Young Devils
I.
In a certain kingdom, in a certain realm, there lived a
rich peasant. He had three sons, Sem^n the Warrior,
Taras the Paunch, and Ivan the Fool, and a daughter Ma-
lanya, the dumb old maid.
Sem^n the Warrior went to war, to serve the king ;
Taras the Paunch went to a merchant in the city, to sell
wares ; but Ivan the Fool and the girl remained at home,
to work and hump their backs.
Sem^n the Warrior earned a high rank and an estate,
and married a lord's daughter. His salary was big, and
his estate was large, but still he could not make both ends
meet : whatever he collected, his wife scattered as though
from a sleeve, and they had no money.
Semdn the Warrior came to his estate, to collect the
revenue. His clerk said to him :
" Where shall it come from ? We have neither cattle,
nor tools : neither horses, nor cows, nor plough, nor har-
481
482 IVAN THE FOOL
row. Everything has to be provided, then there will be
an income."
And Sem^n the Warrior went to his father :
" You are rich, father," he said, " and you have not
given me anything. Cut off a third and I will transfer it
to my estate."
And the old man said :
" You have brought nothing to my house, why should
I give you a third ? It will be unfair to Ivan and to the
girl."
But Sem^n said :
" But he is a fool, and she is a dumb old maid. What
do they need ? "
And the old man said :
" As Ivan says so it shall be ! "
But Ivan said :
" All right, let him have it ! "
So Sem^n the Warrior took his third from the house,
transferred it to his estate, and again went away to serve
the king.
Taras the Paunch, too, earned much money, — and
married a merchant woman. Still he did not have
enough, and he came to his father, and said :
"Give me my part ! "
The old man did not want to give Taras his part :
" You," he said, " have brought notbing to the house,
and everything in the house has been earned by Ivan. I
cannot be unfair to him and to the girl."
But Taras said :
" What does he want it for ? He is a fool. He cannot
marry, for no one will have him ; and the dumb girl does
not need anything, either. Give me," he said, " half of the
grain, Ivan ! I will not take your tools, and of your ani-
mals I want only the gray stalhon, — you cannot plough
with him."
Ivdn laughed.
IVAN THE FOOL 483
" All right," he said, " I will earn it again."
So Taras, too, received his part. Taras took the grain
to town, and drove off' the gray stallion, and Ivan was left
with one old mare, and he went on farming and supporting
his father and his mother.
IL
The old devil was vexed because the brothers had not
quarrelled in dividing up, but had parted in love. And so
he called up three young devils.
" You see," he said, " there are three brothers, Sem^n
the Warrior, Taras the Paunch, and Ivan the Fool. They
ought to be quarrelliiig, but, instead, they live peacefully ;
they exchange with each other bread and salt. The fool
has spoiled all my business. Go all three of you, — get
hold of them, and mix them up in such a way that they
shall tear out one another's eyes. Can you do it ? "
" We can," they said.
" How are you going to do it ? "
" We wiU do it like this," they said : " First we wiU
ruin them, so that they will have nothing to eat ; then we
will throw them all in a heap, so that they will quarrel
together."
" Very well," he said. " I see that you know your
business. Go, and do not return to me before you have
muddled all three, or else I will flay all three of you."
The three devils all went to a swamp, and considered
how to take hold of the matter: they quarrelled and
quarrelled, for they wanted each of them to get the easiest
job, and finally they decided to cast lots for each man. If
one of them got through first, he was to come and help the
others. The devils cast lots, and set a time when they
were to meet again in the swamp, in order to find out
who was through, and who needed help.
When the time came, the devils gathered in the swamp.
484
iv/n the fool 485
They began to talk about their affairs. The first devil,
Sem^n the Warrior's, began to speak.
" My affair," he said, " is progressing. To-mcarow my
Sem^n will go to his father."
His comrades asked him how he did it.
" In the first place," he said, " I brought such bra-
very over Sem^n that he promised his king to conquer
the whole world, and the king made him a commander
and sent him out to fight the King of India. They
came together for a fight. But that very night I wet
all his powder, and I went over to the King of India
and made an endless number of soldiers for him out of
straw. When Semen's soldiers saw the straw soldiers
walking upon them on all sides, they lost their courage.
Sem^n commanded them to fire their cannon and their
guns, but they could not fire them. Semen's soldiers were
frightened and ran away like sheep. And the King of
India vanquished them. Sem^n is disgraced, — they have
taken his estate from him, and to-morrow he is to be
beheaded. I have only one day's work left to do : to let
him out of the prison, so thai: he can run home. To-
morrow I shall be through with him, so tell me which of
you I am to aid ! "
Then the other devil, Taras's, began to speak :
" I do not need any help," he said, " for my affair is also
progressing nicely, — Taras will not hve another week.
In the first place, I have raised a belly on him, and made
him envious. He is so envious of other people's property
that, no matter what he sees, he wants to buy it. He
has bought up an endless lot of things and spent all his
money on them and is still buying. He now buys on other
people's money. He has quite a lot on his shoulders, and is
so entangled that he will never free himself. In a week the
time will come for him to pay, and I will change all his
wares into manure, — and he will not be able to pay his
debts, and will go to his father's."
486 IVAN THE FOOL
They began to ask the third devil, Ivan's.
" How is your business ? "
" I must say, my business is not progressing at all.
The first thing I did was to spit into his kvas jug, so as
to give him a belly-ache, and I went to his field and made
the soil so hard that he should not be able to overcome it.
I thought that he would never plough it up, but he, the
fool, came with his plough and began to tear up the soil.
His belly-ache made him groan, but he stuck to his
ploughing. I broke one plough of his, but he went
home, fixed another plough, wrapped new leg-rags on
him, and started once more to plough. I crept under the
earth, and tried to hold the ploughshare, but I could not
do it, — he pressed so hard on the plough ; the plough-
shares are sharp, and he has cut up my hands. He has
ploughed up nearly the whole of it, — only a small strip
is left. Come and help me, brothers, or else, if we do not
overpower him, all our labours will be lost. If the fool is
left and continues to farm, they will have no want, for
he will feed them all."
Semen's devil promised to come on the morrow to help
him, and thereupon the devils departed.
m.
Ivan ploughed up all the fallow field, and only one strip
was left. His belly ached, and yet he had to plough. He
straightened out the lines, turned over the plough, and
went to the field. He had just made one furrow, and was
coming back, when something pulled at the plough as
though it had caught in a root. It was the devil that had
twined his legs about the plough-head and was holding it
fast.
" What in the world is that ? " thought Ivan. " There
were no roots here before, but now there are."
Ivan stuck his hand down in the furrow, and felt some-
thing soft. He grabbed it and pulled it out. It was as
black as a root, but something was moving on it. He
took a glance at it, and, behold, it was a live devil.
" I declare," he said, " it is a nasty thing ! " And Ivan
swung him and was about to strike him against the plough-
handle ; but the devil began to scream.
" Do not beat me," he said, " and I will do for you any-
thing you wish."
" What will you do for me ? "
" Say what you want I "
Ivan scratched himself.
" My belly aches, — can you cure me ? "
" I can," he said.
" Very well, cure me ! "
The devil bent down to the furrow, scratched awhile
in it, pulled out a few roots, — three of them in a bunch .
— and gave them to Ivaii.
487
488 IVAN THE FOOL
" Here," he said, " is a root, which, if you swallow, will
make your ache go away at once."
Ivan took the roots, tore them up, and swallowed one.
His belly-ache stopped at once.
Then the devil began to beg again :
" Let me go, now, and I will slip through the earth, and
will not come up again."
" All right," he said, " God be with you ! "
And the moment Ivan mentioned God's name, the
devil bolted through the earth, as a stone plumps into
the water, and only a hole was left. Ivan put the remain-
ing two roots in his cap, and started to finish his work.
He ploughed up the strip, turned over the plough, and
went home. He unhitched the horse, came to the house,
and there found his eldest brother, Sem^n the Warrior,
with his wife, eating supper. His estate had been taken
from him, and he had with difficulty escaped from prison
and come to his father's to live.
Sem^n saw Ivan, and, " I have come to live with you,"
he said. '< Feed me and my wife until I find a new
place ! "
" All right," he said, " stay here ! "
Ivan wanted to sit down on a bench, but the lady did
not like the smell of Ivan. So she said to her husband :
" I cannot eat supper with a stinking peasant."
" All right," he said, " I have to go anyway to pasture
the mare for the night."
Ivan took some bread and his caftan, and went out to
herd his mare.
IV.
That night Semen's devil got through with his work
and by agreement went to find Ivan's devil, to help to
make an end of the fool. He came to the field and looked
for him everywhere, but found only the hole.
" Something has evidently gone wrong with my com-
rade," he thought, — "I must take his place. The plough-
ing is done, — I shall have to catch him in the mowing
time."
The devil went to the meadows and sent a flood on the
mowing so that it was all covered with mud. Ivan re-
turned in the morning from the night watch, whetted his
scythe, and went out to mow the meadows. He came,
and began to mow : he swung the scythe once, and a
second time, and it grew dull and would not cut, — it was
necessary to grind it. Ivan worked hard and in vain.
" No," he said, " I will go home, and will bring the
grindstone with me, and a round loaf. If I have to stay
here for a week, I will not give up until I mow it all."
When the devil heard it he thought :
" This fool is stiff-necked, — I cannot get at him. I
must try something else."
Ivan came back, ground his scythe, and began to mow.
The devil crept into the grass and began to catch the scythe
by the snath-end and to stick the point into the ground.
It went hard with Ivan, but he finished the mowing, and
there was left only one scrubby place in the swamp.
The devil crawled into the swamp and thought :
" If I get both my paws cut, I will not let him
mow it."
489
490 lYAN THE FOOL
Ivan went into the swamp ; the grass was not dense,
but he found it hard to move the scythe. Ivan grew angry
and began to swing the scythe with all his might. The
devil gave in ; he had hardly time to get away, — he saw
that matters were in bad shape, so he hid in a bush. Ivan
swung the scythe with all his might and struck the bush,
and cut off half of. the devil's tail. Ivan finished the
mowing, told the girl to rake it up, and himself went to
cut the rye.
He went out with a round kuife, but the bobtailed
devil had been there before him and had so mixed up the
rye that he could not cut it with the round knife. Ivan
went back, took the sickle, and began to cut it ; he cut all
the rye.
" Now I must go to the oats," he said.
The bobtailed devil heard it, and thought :
" I could not cope with him on the rye, but I will get
the better of him in the oats, — just let the morning come."
The devil ran in the morning to the oats-field, but the
oats were all cut down. Ivan had cut them in the night,
to keep them from dropping the seed.
The devil grew angry :
" The foo] has cut me all up, and has worn me out. I
have not seen such trouble even in war-time. The ac-
cursed one does not sleep, — I cannot keep up with him.
I will go now to the ricks, and will rot them all."
And the devil went to the rye-rick, chmbed between
the sheaves, and began to rot them : he warmed them up,
and himself grew warm and fell asleep.
Ivan hitched his mare, and went with the girl to haul
away the ricks. He drove up to one and began to throw
the sheaves into the cart. He had just put two sheaves
in when he stuck his fork straight into the devil's back ;
he raised it, and, behold, on the prongs was a live devil,
and a bobtailed one at that, and he was writhing and
twisting, and trying to get oflf.
IVAN THE FOOL 491
" I declare," he said, " it is a nasty thing ! Are you
here again ? "
" I am a different devil," he said. " My brother was
here before. I was with your brother Sem^n."
" I do not care who you are," he replied, " you will catch
it, too."
He wanted to strike him against the ground, but the
devil began to beg him :
" Let me go, and I will not do it again, and I will do
for you anything you please."
" What can you do ? "
" I can make soldiers for you from anything."
" What good are they ? "
"You can turn them to any use you please: they will
do anything."
" Can they play music ? "
"They can."
" All right, make them for me ! "
And the devil said :
" Take a sheaf of rye, strike the lower end against the
ground, and say : ' By my master's command not a sheaf
shall you stand, but as many straws as there are so many
soldiers there be.' "
Ivan took the sheaf, shook it against the ground, and
spoke as the devil told him to. And the sheaf fell to
pieces, and the straws were changed into soldiers, and in
front a drummer was drumming, and a trumpeter blowing
the trumpet. Ivan laughed.
" I declare," he said, " it is clever. This is nice to
amuse the girls with."
" Let me go now," said the devil.
" No," he said, " I will do that with threshed straw,
and I win not let fuU ears waste for nothing. I will
thresh them first."
So the devil said :
" Say, ' As many soldiers, so many straws there be !
492 IVAN THE FOOL
With my master's command again a sheaf it shall
stand.' "
Ivan said this, and the sheaf was as before. And the
devil begged him again :
" Let me go now ! "
" All right ! " Ivan caught him on the cart-hurdle, held
him down with his hand, and pulled him off the fork.
" God be with you ! " he said.
The moment he said, " God be with you," the devil
bolted through the earth, as a stone plumps into the water,
and only a hole was left.
Ivan went home, and there he found his second brother.
Tavas and his wife were sitting and eating supper. Taras
the Paunch had not calculated right, and so he ran away
from his debts and came to his father's. When he saw
Ivan, he said :
" Ivan, feed me and my wife until I go back to tra-
ding ! "
" All right," he said, " stay with us ! "
Ivan took off liis caftan, and seated himself at the
table.
But the merchant's wife said :
" I cannot eat with a fool. He stinks of sweat."
So Taras the Paunch said :
" Ivan, you do not smell right, so go and eat in the
vestibule ! "
" All right," he said, and, taking bread, he went out.
" It is just right," he said, " for it is time for me to go and
pasture the mare for the night."
V.
That night Taras's devil got through with his joh, and
he went by agreement to help out his comrades, — to get
the best of Ivan the Fool. He came to the field and
tried to find his comrades, but all he saw was a hole in
the ground ; he went to the meadows, and found a tail
in the swamp, and in the rye stubbles he found another
hole.
" Well," he thought, " evidently some misfortune has
befallen my comrades ; I must take their place, and go
for the fool."
The devil went forth to find Ivan. But Ivan was
through with the field, and was chopping wood in the
forest.
The brothers were not comfortable living together, and
they had ordered the fool to cut timber with which to
build them new huts.
The devil ran to the woods, climbed into the branches,
and did not let Ivan fell the trees. Ivan chopped the
tree in the right way, so that it might fall in a clear
place ; he tried to make it fall, but it came down the
wrong way, and fell where it had no business to fall, and
got caught in the branches. Ivan made himself a lever
with his axe, began to turn the tree, and barely brought
it down. Ivan went to chop a second tree, and the same
thing happened. He worked and worked at it, and
brought it down. He started on a third tree, and again
the same happened.
Ivdn had expected to cut half a hundred trunks, and
before he had chopped ten it was getting dark. Ivdn
493
494 IVAN THE FOOL
was worn out. Vapours rose from him as though a mist
were going through the woods, but he would not give up.
He chopped down another tree, and his back began to
ache so much that he could not work : he stuck the axe
in the wood, and sat down to rest himself.
The devil saw that Ivan had stopped, and was glad :
" Well," he thought, " he has worn himself out, and he
will stop soon. I will myself take a rest," and he sat
astride a bough, and was happy.
But Ivan got up, pulled out his axe, swung with all
his might, and hit the tree so hard from the other side
that it cracked and came down with a crash. The devil
had not expected it and had no time to straighten out
his legs. The bough broke and caught the devil's hand.
Ivan began to trim, and behold, there was a live devil.
Ivan was surprised.
" I declare," he said, " you are a nasty thing ! Are you
here again ? "
" I am not the same," he said. " I was with your
brother Taras."
" I do not care who you are, — you will fare the same
way," Ivan swung his axe, and wanted to crush him
with the back of the axe.
The devil began to beg him :
" Do not kill me, — I will do anything you please for
you."
" What can you do ? "
" I can make as much money for you as you wish."
" All right, make it for me ! "
And the devil taught him how to do it.
" Take some oak leaves from this tree," he said, " and rub
them in your hands. The gold will fall to the ground."
Ivan took some leaves and rubbed them, — and the
gold began to fall.
" This is nice to have," he said, " when you are out
celebrating with the boys."
IVAN THE FOOL 495
" Let me go now ! " said the devil.
" All right ! " Ivan took his lever, and freed the devil.
" God be with you," he said, and the moment he mentioned
God's name, the devil bolted through the earth, as a stone
plumps into the water, and only a hole was left.
VI.
The brothers built themselves houses, and began to
live each by himself. But Ivan got through with his
field work, and brewed some beer and invited his brothers
to celebrate with him. They would not be Ivan's
guests :
" We have never seen a peasant celebration," they said.
Ivan treated the peasants and their wives, and himself
drank until he was drunk, and he went out into the street
to the khorovod. He went up to the women, and told
them to praise him.
" I will give you what you have not seen in all your
lives."
The women laughed, and praised him. When they got
through, they said :
" Well, let us have it ! "
" I will bring it to you at once," he said.
He picked up the seed-basket and ran into the woods.
The women laughed : " What a fool he is ! " And they
forgot about him, when, behold, he was running toward,
them, and carrying the basket full of something.
" Shall I let you have it ? "
" Yes."
Ivan picked up a handful of gold and threw it to the
women. 0 Lord, how they darted for the money ! The
peasants rushed out and began to tear it out of the hands
of the women. They almost crushed an old woman to
death. Ivan laughed.
" Oh, you fools," he said, " why did you crush that old
woman ? Be more gentle, and I will give you some
496
IVAN THE FOOL 497
more." He began to scatter more gold. People ran up,
and Ivan scattered the whole basketful. They began to
ask for more. But Ivan said:
" That is all. I will give you more some other time.
Now let us have music ! Sing songs ! "
The women started a song.
" I do not like your kind of songs," he said.
" What kind is better ? "
" I will show you in a minute," he said. He went to
the threshing-floor, pulled out a sheaf, straightened it up,
placed it on end, and struck it against the ground.
" At your master's command not a sheaf shall you stand,
each straw a soldier shall be."
The sheaf flew to pieces, and out came the soldiers, and
the drums began to beat and the trumpets to sound. Ivan
told the soldiers to play songs, and went into the street
with them. The people were surprised. The soldiers
played songs, and then Ivan took them back to the thresh-
ing-floor, and told nobody to follow him. He changed
the soldiers back into a sheaf, and threw it on the loft.
He went home and went to sleep behind the partition.
VII.
On the next morning his eldest brother, Sem^n the
Warrior, heard of it, and he went to see Ivan.
" Reveal to me," he said, " where did you find those
soldiers, and where did you take them to ? "
" What is that to you ? " he said.
" What a question ! With soldiers anything may be
done. You can get a kingdom for yourself."
Ivan was surprised.
" Indeed ? Why did you not tell me so long ago ? " he
said. " I will make as many for you as you please.
Luckily the girl and I have threshed a lot of straw."
Ivan took his brother to the threshing-floor, and said :
" Look here ! I will make them for you, but you take
them away, or else, if we have to feed them, they will
ruin the village in one day."
Sem^n the Warrior promised that he would take the
soldiers away, and Ivan began to make them. He struck
a sheaf against the floor, there was a company ; he struck
another, there was a second, and he made such a lot of
them that they took up the whole field.
" Well, will that do ? "
Sem^n was happy, and said :
" It will do. Thank you, Ivan."
"All right," he said. "If you need more, come to me,
and I will make you more. There is plenty of straw
to-day."
Sem^n the Warrior at once attended to the army, col-
lected it as was proper, and went forth to fight.
No sooner had Sem^n the Warrior left, than Taras the
498
iv/n the fool 499
Paunch came. He, too, had heard of the evening's affair,
and he began to beg his brother :
" Keveal to me, where do you get the gold money
from ? If I had such free money, I would with it gather
in all the money of the whole world."
Ivan was surprised.
" Indeed ? You ought to have told me so long ago,"
he said. " I will rub up for you as much as you want."
His brother was glad :
" Give me at least three seed-baskets full ! "
" All right," he said, " let us go to the woods ! But
hitch up the horse, or you will not be able to carry it
away."
They went to the woods, and Ivan began to rub the
oak leaves. He rubbed up a large heap,
" Will that do, eh ? "
Taras was happy.
" It will do for awhile," he said. " Thank you, Ivan."
" You are welcome. If you need more, come to me,
and I will rub up some more, — there are plenty of leaves
left."
Taras the Paunch gathered a whole wagon-load of
money, and went away to trade with it.
Both brothers left the home. And Sem^n went out to
fight, and Taras to trade. And Sem^n the Warrior con-
quered a whole kingdom for himself, while Taras the
Paunch made a big heap of money by trading.
The brothers met, and they revealed to one another
where Sem^n got the soldiers, and Taras the money.
Sem^n the Warrior said to his brother :
" I have conquered a kingdom for myself, and I lead a
good life, only I have not enough money to feed my
soldiers with."
And Taras the Paunch said :
" And I have earned a whole mound of money, but here
is the trouble : I have nobody to guard the money."
500 IVAN THE FOOL
So Sem^n the Warrior said .
" Let us go to our brother ! I will tell him to make
me more soldiers, and I will give them to you to guard
your money ; and you tell him to rub me more money
with which to feed the soldiers."
And they went to Ivan. When they came to him,
Sem^n said :
" I have not enough soldiers, brother. Make me some
more soldiers, — if you have to work over two stacks."
Ivan shook his head.
" I will Dot make you any soldiers, for nothing in the
world."
" But you promised you would."
" So I did, but I will not make them for you."
" Why, you fool, won't you make them ? "
" Because your soldiers have killed a man. The other
day I was ploughing in the field, when I saw a woman
driving with a coffin in the road, and weeping all the time.
I asked her who had died, and she said, ' Semen's soldiers
have killed my husband in a war.' I thought that the
soldiers would make music, and there they have killed a
man. I will give you no more."
And he stuck to it, and made no soldiers for him.
Then Taras the Paunch began to beg Ivan to make
him more gold money. But Ivan shook his head.
" I will not rub any, for nothing in the world."
" But you promised you would."
" So I did, but I wiU not do it."
" Why, you fool, will you not do it ? "
" Because your gold coins have taken away Mikhaylov-
na's cow."
« How so ? "
" They just did. Mikhaylovna had a cow, whose milk
the children sipped, but the other day the children came
to me to ask for some milk. I said to them : ' Where
is your cow ? ' And they answered : ' Taras the Paunch's
IVAN THE FOOL 501
clerk came, and he gave mother three gold pieces, and she
gave him the cow, and now we have no milk to sip.' I
thought you wanted to play with the gold pieces, aud you
take the cow away from the children. I will not give
you any more."
And the fool stuck to it, and did not give him any.
So the brothers went away.
They went away, and they wondered how they might
mend matters. Then Semen said :
" This is what we shall do. You give me money to
feed the soldiers with, and I will give }ou half my
kingdom with the soldiers to guard your money. ' Taras
agreed to it. The brothers divided up, and both became
kings, and rich men.
VIII.
But Ivan remained at home, supporting father and
mother, and working the field with the dumb girl.
One day Ivan's watch-dog grew sick : he had the mange
and was dying. Ivan was sorry for him, and he took some
bread from the dumb girl, put it in his hat, and took it
out and threw it to the dog. But the cap was torn, and
with the bread one of the roots fell out. The old dog
swallowed it with the bread. And no sooner had he swal-
lowed it than he jumped up, began to play and to bark,
and wagged his tail, — he was well again.
When his father and his mother saw that, they were
surprised.
" With what did you cure the dog ? "
And Ivan said to them :
" I had two roots with which to cure all diseases, and
he swallowed one."
It happened that at that time the king's daughter grew
ill, and the king proclaimed in all the towns and villages
that he would reward him who should cure her, and that
if it should be an unmarried man, he should have his
daughter for a wife. The same was also proclaimed in
Ivan's village.
Father and mother called Ivan, and said to him :
" Have you heard what the king has proclaimed ? You
said that you had a root, so go and cure the king's daugh-
ter. You will get a fortune for the rest of your life."
" All right," he said. And he got ready to go. He
was dressed up, and went out on the porch, and saw a
beggar woman with a twisted arm.
602
IVAN THE FOOL 503
" I have heard that you can cure," she said. " Cure
my arm, for I cannot dress myself."
And Ivan said :
" All right ! " He took the root, gave it to the beggar
woman, and told her to swallow it.
She swallowed it, and was cured at once and could
wave her arm. Ivan's parents came out to see him off on
his way to the king, and when they heard that he had
given away the last root and had nothing left with which
to cure the king's daughter, they began to upbraid him.
" You have taken pity on the beggar woman, but you
have no pity on the king's daughter."
But he hitched his horse, threw a little straw into the
hamper, and was getting ready to drive away.
" Where are you going, fool ? "
" To cure the king's daughter."
" But you have nothing to cure her with ! "
" All right," he said, and drove away.
He came to the king's palace, and the moment he
stepped on the porch, the king's daughter was cured.
The king rejoiced, and sent for Ivan. He had him all
dressed up :
" Be my son-in-law ! " he said.
" All right," he said.
And Ivan married the king's daughter. The king died
soon after, and Ivan became king. Thus all three broth-
ers were kings.
IX.
The three brothers were reigning.
The elder brother, Seni^n the Warrior, lived well.
"With his straw soldiers he got him real soldiers. He
commanded his people to furnish a soldier to each ten
homes, and every such soldier had to be tall of stature,
and white of body, and clean of face. And he gathered
a great many such soldiers and taught them all what to
do. And if any one acted contrary to his will, he at once
sent his soldiers against that person, and did as he pleased.
And all began to be afraid of him.
He had an easy hfe. Whatever he wished for, or his
eyes fell upon, was his. He would send out his soldiers,
and they would take away and bring to him whatever he
needed.
Taras the Paunch, too, lived well. The money which
he had received from Ivan he had not spent, but he had
increased it greatly. He, too, had good order in his king-
dom. The money he kept in coffers, and exacted more
money from the people. He exacted money from each
soul for walking past, and driving past, and for bast shoes,
and leg-rags, and shoe-laces. And no matter what he
wished, he had ; for money they brought him everything,
and they went to work for him, because everybody needs
money.
Nor did Ivan the Fool live badly. As soon as he had
buried his father-in-law, he took off his royal garments
and gave them to his wife to put away in the coffer. He
put on his old hempen shirt and trousers, and his bast
shoes, and began to work.
504
IVAN THE FOOL 505
" I do not feel well," he said, " My belly is growing
larger, and I cannot eat, nor sleep."
He brought his parents and the dumb girl, and began
to work again.
People said to him :
" But you are a king ! "
" All right," he said, " but a king, too, has to eat."
The minister came to him, and said :
" We have no money with which to pay salaries."
" All right," he said, " if you have none, pay no sala-
ries ! "
" But they will stop serving you."
" All right," he said, " let them stop serving ! They will
have more time for work. Let them haul manure.
They have not hauled any for a long time."
People crsme to Ivan to have a case tried. One said:
" He stole money from me."
But Ivan replied :
" All right, evidently he needed it."
All saw that Ivan was a fool. His wife said to him :
" They say about you that you are a fool."
" All right," he said.
Ivan's wife, too, was a fool, and she thought and
thought.
" Why should I go against my husband ? " she said.
" The thread belongs where the needle is."
She took off her regal garments, put them in a coffer,
and went to the dumb girl to learn to work. She learned,
and began to help her husband.
All the wise men left Ivan's kingdom, and only the
fools were left. Nobody had any money. They lived
and worked and fed themselves and all good people.
The old devil waited and waited for some news from
the young devils about how they had destroyed the three
brothers, but none came. He went to find out for him-
self : he looked everywhere for the three, but found only
three holes.
" Well," he thought, " evidently they did not get the
best of them. I shall have to try it myself."
He went to find the brothers, but they were no longer
in their old places. He found them in different kingdoms.
All three were living and reigning there. That vexed the
old devil.
" I shall have to do the work myself," he said.
First of all he went to King Semen. He did not go
to him iu his own form, but in the shape of a general.
He went to him, and said :
" I have heard that you, King Sem^n, are a great war-
rior. I have had good instruction in this business, and I
want to serve you."
King Sem^n began to ask him questions, and he saw
that he was a clever man, and so received him into his
service.
The old general began to teach King Sem^n how to
gather a great army.
" In the first place," he said, " you must collect more
soldiers, for too many people in your kingdom are walk-
ing about idly. You must shave the heads of all the
young men without exception, and then you will have an
army which will be five times as large as it is now. In
the second place, you must introduce new guns and can-
506
IVAN THE FOOL 507
non. I will get you the kind of guns that fire one
hundred bullets at once, as though pouring out pease.
And I will get you cannon that burn with their fire :
whether a man, or a horse, or a wall, — they burn every-
thing."
King Sem^n listened to his new general, and ordered
all the young men without exception to be drafted as
soldiers, and started new factories. He had a lot of new
guns and cannon made, and at once started a war against
a neighbouring king. The moment the enemy's army
came out against him, he ordered his soldiers to fire at
them with bullets and to burn them with the cannon fire.
He at once maimed and burnt one-half the army. The
neighbouring king became frightened, and he surrendered
and gave up his kingdom to him. King Sem^n was
happy.
" Now I will vanquish the King of India," he said.
But the King of India heard of King Sem^n, and
adopted all his inventions and added a few of his own.
The King of India drafted not only all the young men,
but he also made all the unmarried women serve as
soldiers, and so he had even more soldiers than King
Sem^n. He adopted all of King Semen's guns and can-
non, and introduced flying in the air and throwing
explosive bombs from above.
King Sem^n went out to make war on the King of
India. He thought that he would conquer him as he had
conquered before ; but the scythe was cutting too fine, —
the King of India did not give Semen's army a chance to
fire a single shot, for he sent his women into the air, to
throw explosive bombs on Semen's army. The women
began to pour the bombs on Semen's army, like borax on
cockroaches, and the whole army ran away, and King
Sem^n was left alone. The King of India took possession
of the whole of Semen's kingdom, and Sem^n the Warrior
ran whither his eyes took him.
608 IVAN THE FOOL
The old devil had done up this brother, and he made for
King Taras. He took the shape of a merchant and settled
in Taras's kingdom. He started an establishment, and
began to issue money. The merchant paid high prices for
everything, and the whole nation rushed to the merchant
to get his money. And the people had so much money
that they paid all their back taxes and paid on time all
the taxes as they fell due. King Taras was happy.
" Thanks to the merchant," he thought, " I shall now
have more money than ever, and my hie will improve."
And King Taras fell on new plans. He began to build
himself a new palace : he commanded the people to haul
lumber and stone, and to come to work, and offered high
prices for everything. King Taras thought that as before
the people would rush to work for him. But, behold, all
the lumber and stone was being hauled to the merchant,
and only the labourers were rushing to the king.
King Taras offered higher prices, but the merchant
went higher still. King Taras had much money, but the
merchant had more still, and the merchant could offer
better pay than the king. The royal palace came to a
standstill, — it could not be built.
King Taras wanted to get a garden laid out. When
the fall came, King Taras proclaimed that he wanted
people to come and set out trees for him ; but nobody
came, as they were all digging a pond for the merchant.
Winter came. King Taras wanted to buy sable furs for
a new coat, and he sent out men to buy them. The mes-
senger came back, and said that there were no sables, —
that aU the furs were in the merchant's possession, as he
had offered a higher price, and that he had made himself
a sable rug.
King Taras wanted to have some stallions. He sent
messengers to buy them for him ; but they came back,
and said that the merchant had all the good stallions,
and they were hauling water and filling up the pond.
IVAN THE FOOL 609
All the business of the king came to a stop. Men
would not do any tiling for him, but worlied only for the
merchant ; all he received was the merchant's money, for
taxes.
And the king collected such a mass of money that he
did not know what to do with it, and his Hfe grew bad.
The king stopped planning things, and only thought of
how he might pass his hfe peacefully, but he could not
do so. He was oppressed in everything. His cooks, and
his coachmen, and his servants began to leave him for the
merchant. And he began to suffer for lack of food. He
would send the women to market to buy provisions, but
there was nothing there, for the merchant bought up
everything, and all he received was money for taxes.
King Taras grew angry and sent the merchant abroad ;
but the merchant settled at the border and continued to
do his work : as before, people dragged for the merchant's
money all the things from the king to him. The king
was in a bad phght : he did not eat for days at a time,
and the rumour was spread that the merchant was boast-
ing that he was going to buy the king himself with his
money. King Taras lost his courage, and did not know
what to do.
Sem^n the Warrior came to him, and said :
" Support me, for the King of India has vanquished
me."
But Taras himself was pinched.
" I have not eaten myself for two days," he said.
XI.
The old devil had done up the two brothers, and now
went to Ivan. The old devil took the shape of a general,
and he came to Ivan and tried to persuade him to provide
himself with an army.
" It will not do for a king to live without an army,"
he said. " Just command me, and I will gather soldiers
from among your people, and will get you up an army."
Ivan took his advice.
" All right," he said, " get me up an army : teach them
to play good music, — I like that."
The old devil started to go over the kingdom, to gather
volunteers. He said that they should go and get their
crowns shaved, for which they would get a bottle of vodka
each, and a red cap.
The fools laughed at him.
" We have all the liquor we want," they said, " for we
distil it ourselves, and as for caps, our women will make
us any we want, even motley ones, with tassels at that."
Not one of them would go. The old devil went to
Ivan and said :
" Your fools will not go of their own will ; you will
have to force them."
" All right," he said, " drive them by force ! "
And so the old devil announced that all the fools were
to inscribe themselves as soldiers, and that Ivan would
execute those who would not go.
The fools came to the general and said :
" You say that the king will have us killed if we do
jiot become soldiers, but you do not tell us what we shall
610
IVAN THE FOOL 511
have to do as soldiers. They say that soldiers, too, are
kiUed."
" Yes, that cannot be helped."
When the fools heard that, they became stubborn.
" We will not go," they said. " If so, let us be killed
at home ! Death cannot be escaped anyway."
" Fools that you are ! " said the old devil. " A soldier
may be killed or not, but if you do not go, King Ivan will
certainly have you killed."
The fools considered the matter, and went to see Ivan
the Fool.
" Your general has come," they said, " and tells us all
to turn soldiers. ' If you become soldiers,' he says, ' you
may be killed, or not, but if you do not become soldiers
King Ivan will certainly put you to death.' Is that true ? "
Ivan began to laugh.
" How can I, one man, have you all put to death ? If
I were not a fool, I should explain that to you, but as it is,
I do not understand it myself."
" If so," they said, " we shall not become soldiers."
" All right," he said, " don't."
The fools went to the general and refused to become
soldiers.
The old devil saw that his busin'^ss did not work, so
he went to the King of Cockroachland, and got into his
favour.
" Let us go," he said, " and wage war on King Ivan, and
vanquish him. He has no money, but he has plenty of
grain, and cattle, and all kinds of things."
The King of Cockroachland went out to make war : he
had gathered a large army, and collected guns and cannou,
and left his borders, to enter Ivan's kingdom.
People came to Ivan and said;
" The King of Cockroachland is coming against us."
" All right," he said, " let him come."
The Kiug of Cockroachland crossed the border, and
512 IVAN THE FOOL
sent the advance-guard to tind Ivan's army. They looked
and looked for it, and could not find it. They thought
that they might wait for it to show up. But they heard
nothing about it, — there was no army to fight.
The King of Cockroachlaud sent out his men to take
possession of the villages. The soldiers came to one vil-
lage,— and there the fools jumped out to look at the
soldiers and to marvel at them. The soldiers began to
take away the grain and the cattle : the fools gave it all
up, and did not resist. The soldiers went to the next
village, and the same happened. The soldiers walked for
a day or two, and everywhere the same happened. They
gave up all they had, and nobody resisted, and they invited
the soldiers to come and live with them :
" If you, dear people," they said, " have not enough to
live on in your country, come and settle among us."
The soldiers walked and walked, but no army was to
be found; everywhere people were living, and feeding
themselves and other people, and they did not resist, but
invited them to come and live with them.
The soldiers felt bad, and they came back to the King
of Cockroachlaud.
" We cannot fight here," they said, " so take us to some
other place: war would be a good thing, but this is as
though we were to cut soup. We cannot fight here."
The King of Cockroachlaud gi-ew wroth, and com-
manded his soldiers to march through the whole kingdom,
and destroy villages and houses, and burn the graiu and
kill the cattle.
" If you do not obey my command," he said, " I shall
have you all executed."
The soldiers became frightened, and began to carry out
the king's command. They started to burn the houses
and the grain, and to kill the cattle. And still the fools
did not resist, but only wept. The old men wept, and
the old women wept, and the children wept.
IVAN THE FOOL 513
"Why do you offend us? Why do you destroy the
property ? If you need it, take it along ! "
The soldiers felt ashamed. They did not go any farther,
and the whole army ran away.
XII.
The old devil went away, — he could not get at Ivan
by means of the soldiers. The old devil changed into a
clean-looking gentleman, and went to live in Ivan's king-
dom : he wished to get at him by means of money, as he
had done with Taras the Paunch.
" I want to do you good," he said, " and to teach you
what is good and proper. I will build a house in your
country, and will start an establishment."
" All right," he said, " stay here ! "
The clean-looking gentleman stayed overnight, and the
following morning he took a large bag of gold to the mar-
ket-square, and a sheet of paper, and said :
" You are all of you living like pigs. I will teach you
how to live. Build me a house according to this plan !
You work, and I will show you how, and will pay gold
money to you."
And he showed them the gold. The fools were as-
tounded : they had no such a thing as money, and only
exchanged things among themselves, or paid with work.
They marvelled at the gold and said :
" They are nice things."
And for these gold things they began to give him what
they had and to work for him. The old devil rejoiced
and thought :
" My affair is proceeding favourably. I will now ruin
Ivan completely, as I have ruined Taras, and will buy
him up, guts and all."
As soon as the fools had any gold, they gave it all away
to their women for necklaces, and their girls wove it into
514
IVAN THE FOOL 515
their braids, and the cliildren began to play in the streets
with those pretty things. When all had enough of it,
they refused to get any more. The clean-looking gentle-
man's palace was not half done, and the grain and the
cattle were not yet attended to for the year. And
the gentleman demanded that they should go and work
for him, and haul his grain, and drive his cattle ; he
promised them nmch gold for everything and for all
work.
But no one came to work, and they brought nothing to
him. Only now and then a boy or girl would run in
to exchange an egg for a gold coin; otherwise nobody
came, and he had nothing to eat. The clean-looking
gentleman was starved, and he went to the village to buy
something to eat : he went into one yard, and offered a
sold coin for a chicken, but the woman would not take it.
" I have too many of them as it is," she said.
He went to a homeless woman, to buy a herring of her,
and offered her a gold coin.
" I do not want it, dear man," she said. " I have no
children, and so there is nobody to play with it; I myself
have three of these for show."
He went to a peasant to buy bread of him, but the peas-
ant, too, would not take the money.
" I do not want it,'' he said. " If you want bread, for
Christ's sake, wait, and I will have my wife cut you off a
piece."
The devil just spit out and ran away from the peasant.
Not only would he not take anything for Christ's sake,
but it was worse than cutting him even to hear that
word.
And so he did not get any bread. Everywhere it was
the same ; no matter where the devil went, they gave him
nothing for money, but said :
" Bring us something else, or come and work for it, oi
take it for Christ's sake ! "
516 IVAN THE FOOL
But the devil had nothing but money. He did not
hke to work, and for Christ's sake he could not take any-
thing. Tiie old devil grew angry.
" What else do you want, if I give you money ? You
can buy anything for money, or hire a labourer."
The fools paid no attention to him,
" No," they said, " we do not want it. We have no
taxes and no wages to pay, so wha.t do we want with the
money ? "
The old devil went to bed without eating supper.
This affair reached the ears of Ivan the Fool. They
went to ask him :
" What shall we do ? A clean-looking gentleman has
appeared among us : he is fond of eating and drinking,
and does not like to work, and does not beg for Christ's
sake, but only offers us gold pieces. So long as we did
not have enough of them, we gave him everything, but
now we do not give him any more. What shall we with
him ? We are afraid that he will starve."
Ivan listened to what they had to say.
" All right," he said, " we shall have to feed him Let
him go from farm to farm as a shepherd ! "
The old devil could not help himself, and he began to
go from farm to farm. The turn came to Ivan's farm.
The old devil came to dinner, and the dumb girl was just
fixing it. Those who were lazy used to deceive her.
Without having worked they came to dinner earlier and
ate up all the porridge. And so the dumb girl contrived
to tell the good-for-nothing by their hands : if one had
calluses, she seated him at the table, but if not, she gave
him what was left of the dinner. The old devil chmbed
behind the table ; but the dumb girl took hold of his
hands, and there were no calluses ; the hands were clean
and smooth, and the nails long.
The dumb girl bawled, and pulled the devil out from
behind the table.
lYAN THE FOOL 617
Ivan's wife said to him :
" Don't take it amiss, clean gentleman ! My sister-in-
law will not let a man witiiout calluses sit down at the
table. Wait awhile ! Let the people eat first, and then
you will get what is left."
The old devil was insulted, because at the king's house
they would feed him with the swine. He said to
Ivan :
" What a fool's law you have in your country to let all
men work with their hands ! You have invented that in
your stupidity. Do men work with their hands only ?
How do you suppose clever people work ? "
But Ivan said :
" How can we fools know ? We labour mostly with
our hands and with our backs."
" That is so, because you are fools. I will teach you,"
he said, " how to work with your heads. You will see that
with your heads you can work faster than with your
bands."
Ivan marvelled.
" Indeed," he said, " we are called fools for good
reason."
And the old devil said :
" But it is not easy to w^ork with the head. You do
not give me anything to eat because I have no calluses on
my hands, and you do not know that it is a hundred
times harder to work with the head. At times it just
makes the head burst."
Ivan fell to musing.
" But why do you torture yourself so much, my dear ?
It is no small matter to have your head burst. You had
better do some easy work, — with your hands and
back."
And the devil said :
" The reason I torture myself is because I pity you
fools. If I did not torture myself, you would remain
518 IVAN THE FOOL
fools to the end of your days. I have worked with my
head, and now I will teach you, too."
Ivan marvelled.
" Teach us," he said, " for now and then the hands get
tired, and it would be nice to use the head instead,"
The devil promised to teach him.
And Ivan proclaimed throughout his kingdom that a
clean-looking man had appeared who would teach people
how to work with their heads, that they could work more
with their heads than with their hands, and that they
should come and learn.
In Ivan's kingdom there was a high tower, and a straight
staircase led up to it, and at the top there was a spy-
room. Ivan took the gentleman there so that he might
see better.
The gentleman stood up on the tower and began to
speak from it. The fools gathered around to look at him.
The fools thought that he would show them in fact how
to work with the head instead of the hands. But the old
devil taught them only in words how to live without
working.
The fools did not understand a word. They looked
and looked and went away, each to his work.
The old devil stood on the tower a day, and a second
day, and kept talking. He wanted to eat ; but the fools
did not have enough sense to send some bread up to the
tower. They thought that if he could work better with
his head than with his hands, he would somehow earn
bread for himself with his head. The old devil stood
another day in the tower-room, and kept talking all the
time. And the people came up and looked, and looked
and went away.
Then Ivan asked :
" Well, has the gentleman begun to work with his
head ? "
" Not yet," people said, " he is still babbling."
IVAN THE FOOL 519
The old devil stood another day on the tower and began
to weaken ; he tottered and stru'^k his head against a post.
One of the fools saw that, aud told Ivan's wife about it,
and she ran to her husband in the field.
" Come, let us go and see," she said. " The gentleman
is beginning to work with his head."
Ivan was surprised.
" Indeed ?" he said. He turned in the horse, and went
to the tower. When he came up to it, the old devil was
weakened from hunger and tottering from side to side and
knocking his head against the po«ts. Just as Ivan came
up, the devil stumbled and fell and rattled down the
stairs, head foremost : he counted all the steps.
" Well," said Ivan, " the clean-looking gentleman told
the truth when he said that at times the head bursts.
This is worse than calluses : such works will leave bumps
on ihe head."
The old devil came down the whole staircase and struck
his head against the ground. Ivan wanted to go and see
how much work he had done, but suddenly the earth
gave way, and the old devil went through the earth, and
nothing but a hole was left.
Ivan scratched himself.
" I declare," he said, " it is a nasty thing ! It is again
he. He must be the father of those others. What a
big fellow he is ! "
Ivan is still living, and people are all the time rushing
to his kingdom, and his brothers, too, came to him, and
he is feeding them all. If any one comes and says :
'< Feed me ! " he replies :
" All right, stay here, we have plenty of everything."
They have but one custom in his country, and that is.
•f one has calluses on his hands, he may sit down at tho
table, and if he has not, he gets the remnants.
THE END.
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